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QUEEN MARY 



A DRAMA 



BY 

ALFRED TENNYSON 



[author's edition, from advance sheets] 




;■< <^ "7 &I& v«w *^ 



?- *.£.-. 



BOSTON 
JAMES R. OSGOOD AND COMPANY 

(late TICKNOR & FIELDS, AND FIELDS, OSGOOD, & CO.) 

187s 






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Boston. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 



Queen Mary. 

Philip (King of Naples and Sicily, afterwards King of Spain). 

The Princess Elizabeth. 

Reginald Pole (Cardinal and Papal Legate). 

Simon Renard (Spanish Ambassador). 

Le Sieur de Noailles (French Ambassador). 

Thomas Cranmer (Archbishop of Canterbury). 

Sir Nicholas Heath (Archbishop of York ; Lord Chancellor 
after Gardiner). 

Edward Courtenay (Earl of Devon). 

Lord William Howard (afterwards Lord Howard and 
Lord High Admiral). 

Lord Williams of Thame. 

Lord Paget. 

Lord Petre. 

Stephen Gardiner (Bishop of Winchester and Lord Chan- 
cellor). 

Edmund Bonner (Bishop of London). 

Thomas Thirlby (Bishop of Ely). 

Sir Thomas Wyatt i 

[ (Insurrectionary Leaders). 
Sir Thomas Stafford ) 

Sir Ralph Bagenhall. 

Sir Robert Southwell. 

Sir Henry Bedingfield. 

5 



6 Dramatis PersoncB. 

Sir William Cecil. 

Sir Thomas White (Lord Mayor of London). 

The Duke of Alva ) ,. ^, .,. ^ 

[ (attending on Philip). 
The Count de Feria ) 

Peter Martyr. 

Father Cole. 

Father Bourne. 

Villa Garcia. 

Soto. 

Captain Brett ) 

} (Adherents of Wyatt). 
Antony Knyvett ) 

Peters (Gentleman of Lord Howard). 

Roger (Servant to Noailles). 

William (Servant to Wyatt). 

Steward of Household to the Princess Elizabeth. 

Old Nokes and Nokes. 

Marchioness of Exeter (Mother of Courtenay). 

Lady Clarence \ 

Lady Magdalen Dacres \ (Ladies in waiting to the Queen). 

Alice ^ 

Maid of Honor to the Princess Elizabeth. 

Joan 

Tib 



I (Two Country Wives), 



Lords and other Attendants, Members of the Privy Council, Members 
of Parliament, two Gentlemen, Aldermen, Citizens, Peasants, 
Ushers, Messengers, Guards, Pages, &c. 



QUEEN MARY 



QUEEN MARY. 



ACT I. 

SCENE I. — ALDGATE RICHLY DECORATED. 
Crowd. Marshalmen. 

Marshalman. 

Stand back, keep a clear lane. When will her 
Majesty pass, sayst thou ? why now, even now ; where- 
fore draw back your heads and your horns before I 
break them, and make what noise you will with your 
tongues, so it be not treason. Long live Queen Mary, 
the la^vful and legitimate daughter of Harry the Eighth. 
Shout, knaves ! 

Citizens. 
Long live Queen Mary ! 

First Citizen. 
That's a hard word, legitimate ; what does it mean ? 



8 Queen Mary. [act :. 

Second Citizen. 
It means a bastard. 

Third Citizen. 
Nay, it means true-born. 

First Citizen. 
Why, didn't the Parliament make her a bastard ? 

Second Citizen. 
No j it was the Lady Elizabeth. 

Third Citizen. 
That was after, man ; that was after. 

First Citizen. 
Then which is the bastard ? 

Second Citizen. 
Troth, they be both bastards by Act of Parliament 
and Council. 

Third Citizen. 
Ay, the Parliament can make every true-born man of 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 9 

us a bastard. Old Nokes, can't it make thee a 
bastard ? thou shouldst know, for thou art as white 
as three Christmasses. 

Old Nokes {dreamily). 
Who's a-passing ? King Edward or King Richard ? 

Third Citizen. 
No, old Nokes. 

Old Nokes. 
It's Harry ! 

Third Citizen. 

It's Queen Mary. 

Old Nokes. 
The blessed Mary's a-passing ! \Falls on hishiees, 

Nokes. 
Let father alone, my masters ! he's past your ques- 
tioning. 

Third Citizen. 
Answer thou for him, then ! thou art no such cockerel 



lo Queen Mary, [act i. 

thyself, for thou was born i* the tail end of old Harry 
the Seventh. 

NOKES. 

Eh! that was afore bastard-making began. I was 
born true man at five in the forenoon i' the tail of old 
Harry, and so they can't make me a bastard. 

Third Citizen. 

But if Parliament can make the Queen a bastard, why, 
it follows all the more that they can make thee one, who 
art fray'd i' the knees, and out at elbow, and bald o' 
the back, and bursten at the toes, and down at heels. 

NOKES. 

I was born of a true man and a ring'd wife, and I 
can't argue upon it ; but I and my old woman *ud burn 
upon it, that would we. 

Marshalman. 

What are you cackling of bastardy under the Queen's 
own nose ? I'll have you flogged and burnt too, by the 
Rood I will. 

FiR?r Citizen. 
He swears by the Rood. Whew ! 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 1 1 

Second Citizen. 
Hark ! the trumpets. 

\The Frocession passes^ Mary and Elizabeth 
riding side by side, and disappears under 
the gate. 

Citizens. 
Long live Queen Mary ! down with all traitors ! God 
save Her Grace ; and death to Northumberland ! 

\Exeunt, 

Manent Two Gentlemen. 

First Gentleman. 
By God's light a noble creature, right royal. 

Second Gentleman. 
She looks comelier than ordinary to-day ; but to my 
mind the Lady Elizabeth is the more noble and royal. 

First Gentleman. 

I mean the Lady Elizabeth. Did you hear (I have a 
daughter in her service who reported it) that she met the 
Queen at Wanstead with five hundred horse, and the 
Queen (tho' some say they be much divided) took her 
hand, calPd her sweet sister, and kiss'd not her alone, 
but all the ladies of her following. 



12 Queeii Alary. [act i. 

Second Gentleman. 

Ay, that was in her hour of joy, there will be plenty 
to sunder and unsister them again ; this Gardiner for 
one, who is to be made Lord Chancellor, and will 
pounce like a wild beast out of his cage to worry 
Cranmer. 

First Gentleman. 

And furthermore, my daughter said that when there 
rose a talk of the late rebellion, she spoke even of 
Northumberland pitifully, and of the good Lady Jane as 
a poor innocent child who had but obeyed her father ; 
and furthermore, she said that no one in her time should 
be burnt for heresy. 

Second Gentleman. 
Well, sir, I look for happy times. 

First Gentleman. 

There is but one thing against them. I know not if 
you know. 

Second Gentleman. 

I suppose you touch upon the rumor that Charles, 
the master of the world, has offer'd her his son Philip, 
the Pope and the Devil. I trust it is but a rumor. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 13 

First Gentleman. 

She is going now to the Tower to loose the prisoners 
there, and among them Courtenay, to be made Earl of 
Devon, of royal blood, of splendid feature, whom the 
council and all her people wish her to marry. May it 
be so, for we are many of us Catholics, but few Papists, 
and the Hot Gospellers will go mad upon it. 

Second Gentleman. 

Was she not betroth'd in her babyhood to the Great 
Emperor himself ? 

First Gentleman. 
Ay, but he's too old. 

Second Gentleman. 

And again to her cousin Reginald Pole, now Cardi- 
nal, but I hear that he too is full of aches and broken 
before his day. 

First Gentleman. 
O, the Pope could dispense with his Cardinalate, and 
his achage, and his breakage, if that were all : but will 
you not follow the procession ? 



14 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Second Gentleman. 
No j I have seen enough for this day. 

First Gentleman. 
Well, I shall follow ; if I can get near enough I shall 
judge with my own eyes whether Her Grace incline to 
this splendid scion of Plantagenet. \_Exeimt, 



SCENE II.— A ROOM IN LAMBETH PALACE. 

Cranmer. 

To Strasburg, Antwerp, Frankfort, Zurich, Worms, 
Geneva, Basle — our Bishops from their sees 
Or fled, they say, or flying — Poinet, Barlow, 
Bale, Scory, Coverdale ; besides the Deans 
Of Christchurch, Durham, Exeter, and Wells — 
Ailmer and Bullingham, and hundreds more ; 
So they report : I shall be left alone. 
No : Hooper, Ridley, Latimer will not fly. 

Enter Peter Martyr. 

Peter Martyr. 
Fly, Cranmer ! were there nothing else, your name 



SCENE II.] Qtieen Mary. 15 

Stands first of those who sign'd the Letters Patent 
That gave her royal crown to Lady Jane. 

Cranmer. 

Stand first it may, but it was written last : 
Those that are now her Privy Council, sign'd 
Before me : nay, the Judges had pronounced 
That our young Edward might bequeath the crown 
Of England, putting by his father's will. 
Yet I stood out, till Edward sent for me. 
The wan boy-king, with his fast-fading eyes 
Fixt hard on mine, his frail transparent hand, 
Damp with the sweat of death, and griping mine, 
Whisper'd me, if I loved him, not to yield 
His Church of England to the Papal wolf 
And Mary ; then I could no more — I sign'd. 
Nay, for bare shame of inconsistency, 
She cannot pass her traitor council by, 
To make me headless. 

Peter Martyr. 

That might be forgiven. 
T tell you, fly, my Lord. You do not own 
The bodily presence in the Eucharist, 
Their wafer and perpetual sacrifice : 
Your creed will be your death. 



1 6 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Cranmer. 

Step after step, 
Thro' many voices crying right and left, 
Have I climb'd back into the primal church. 
And stand within the porch, and Christ with me : 
My flight were such a scandal to the faith. 
The downfall of so many simple souls, 
I dare not leave my post. 

Peter Martyr. 

But you divorced 
Queen Catharine and her father; hence, her hate 
Will burn till you are burn'd. 

Cranmer. 

I cannot help it. 
The Canonists and Schoolmen were with me. 
" Thou shalt not wed thy brother's wife." — 'Tis written, 
" They shall be childless." True, Mary was born, 
But France would not accept her for a bride 
As being born from incest ; and this wrought 
Upon the king ; and child by child, you know. 
Were momentary sparkles out as quick 
Almost as kindled ; and he brought his doubts 
And fears to me. Peter, I'll swear for him 
He ^/^ believe the bond incestuous. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 1 7 

But wherefore am I trenching on the time 
That should already have seen your steps a mile 
From me and Lambeth ? God be with you ! Go. 

Peter Martyr. 

All, but how fierce a letter you wTote against 
Their superstition when they slander'd you 
For setting up a mass at Canterbury 
To please the Queen. 



Cranmer. 
It was a wheedling monk 



Set up the mass. 



Peter Martyr. 

I know it, my good Lord. 
But you so bubbled over with hot terms 
Of Satan, liars, blasphemy, Antichrist, 
She never will forgive you. Fly, my Lord, fly ! 

Craxmer. 
I wrote it, and God grant me power to burn ! 

Peter !Martyr. 
They have given me a safe conduct : for all that 



1 8 Queen Mary. [act i. 

I dare not stay. I fear, I fear, I see you, 
Dear friend, for the last time ; farewell, and fly. 

Cranmer. 

Fly and farewell, and let me die the death. 

\Exit Peter Marty r« 

Enter Old Servant. 

O, kind and gentle master, the Queen's Officers 
Are here in force to take you to the Tower. 

Cranmer. 

Ay, gentle friend, admit them. I will go. 

I thank my God it is too late to fly. \Exeunf, 



SCENE III. — ST. PAUUS CROSS. 

Father Bourne in the pulpit, A crowd. Marchioness 
OF Exeter, Courtenay. The Sieur de Noailles 
and his man Roger in front of the stage. Hubbub. 

Noailles. 
Hast thou let fall those papers in the palace ? 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 19 

Roger. 
Ay, sir. 

NOAILLES. 

" There will be no peace for Mary till Elizabeth lose 
her head." 

Roger. 
Ay, sir. 

NOAILLES. 

And the other. " Long live Elizabeth the Queen." 

Roger. 
Ay, sir j she needs must tread upon them. 

NOAILLES. 

Well. 
These beastly swine make such a grunting here, 
I cannot catch what father Bourne is saying. 

Roger. 

Quiet a moment, my masters ; hear what the shaveling 
has to say for himself. 

Crowd. 
Hush — hear. 



20 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Bourne. 

— and so this unhappy land, long divided in itself, and 
severed from the faith, will return into the one true 
fold, seeing that our gracious Virgin Queen hath — 

Crowd. 
No pope ! no pope ! 

Roger {to those about him^ mimicking Bourne). 
— hath sent for the holy legate of the holy father the 
Pope, Cardinal Pole, to give us all that holy absolution 
which — 

First Citizen. 
Old Bourne to the life ! 

Second Citizen. 
Holy absolution ! holy Inquisition ! 

Third Citizen. 
Down with the Papist. [Hubbub, 

Bourne. 

— and now that your good bishop, Bonner, who hath 
lain so long under bonds for the faith — [Hubbub, 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 21 

NOAILLES. 

Friend Roger, steal thou in among the crowd, 
And get the swine to shout EUzabeth. 
Yon gray old Gospeller, sour as midwinter, 
Begin with him. 

Roger {goes). 

By the mass, old friend, we'll have no pope here 
while the Lady Elizabeth lives. 

Gospeller. 

Art thou of the true faith, fellow, that swearest by 
the mass ? 

Roger. 

Ay, that am I, new converted, but the old leaven 
sticks to my tongue yet. 

First Citizen. 
He says right ; by the mass we'll have no mass here. 

Voices of the Crowd. 
Peace ! hear him ; let his own words damn the Papist. 
From thine own mouth I judge thee — tear him down. 

Bourne. 
— and since our Gracious Queen, let me call her our 



2 2 Queen Mary. [act i. 

second Virgin Mary, hath begun to re-edify the true 
temple — 

First Citizen. 

Virgin Mary ! we'll have no virgins here — we'll have 
the Lady Elizabeth ! 

\_Swords are drawn, a knife is hurled, and sticks 
in the pulpit. The mob throng to the pulpii 
stairs. 

Marchioness of Exeter. 
Son Courtenay, wilt thou see the holy father 
Murdered before thy face ? up, son, and save him ! 
They love thee, and thou canst not come to harm. 

Courtenay {in the pulpit). 

Shame, shame, my masters ! are you English-born, 
And set yourselves by hundreds against one ? 

Crowd. 
A Courtenay ! a Courtenay ! 

\A train of Spanish servants crosses at the back jj 
the stage. 

Noailles. 
These birds of passage come before their time : 
Stave off the crowd upon the Spaniard there. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 23 

Roger. 

My masters, yonder's fatter game for you 
Than this old gaping gurgoyle : look you there — 
The Prince of Spain coming to wed our Queen ! 
After him, boys ! and pelt him from the city. 

\They seize stones and follow the Spaniards, 

Exeimt 071 the other side Marchioness of 

Exeter a7id Attendants. 

NoAiLLES {to Roger). 

Stand from me. If Elizabeth lose her head — 

That makes for France. 

And if her people, anger'd thereupon, 

Arise against her and dethrone the Queen — 

That makes for France. 

And if I breed confusion anyway — 

That makes for France. 

Good-day, my Lord of Devon \ 
A bold heart yours to beard that raging mob ! 

COURTENAY. 

My mother said, Go up ; and up I went. 
I knew they would not do me any wrong, 
For I am mighty popular with them, Noailles. 

NOAILLES. 

You look'd a king. 



24 Queen Mary. [act i. 

COURTENAY. 

Why not ? I am king^s blood. 

NOAILLES. 

And in the whirl of change may come to be one, 

CoURTENAY. 

Ah! 

NOAILLES. 

But does your gracious Queen entreat you king-like ? 

CoURTENAY. 

Tore God, I think she entreats me like a child. 

NOAILLES. 

YouVe but a dull life in this maiden court, 
I fear, my Lord. 

CoURTENAY. 

A life of nods and yawns. 

NOAILLES. 

So you would honor my poor house to-night, 
We might enliven you. Divers honest fellows, 
The Duke of Suffolk lately freed from prison, 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary, 25 

Sir Peter Carew and Sir Thomas Wyatt, 

Sir Thomas Stafford, and some more — we play. 

COURTENAY. 

At what ? 

NOAILLES. 

The Game of Chess. 

CPURTENAY. 

The Game of Chess ! 
I can play well, and I shall beat you there. 

NOAILLES. 

Ay, but we play with Henry, King of France, 
And certain of his court. 

His Highness makes his moves across the channel. 
We answer him with ours, and there are messengers 
That go between us. ^ 

CoURTENAY. 

Why, such a game, sir, were whole years a playing. 

NOAILLES. 

Nay; not so long I trust. That all depends 
Upon the skill and swiftness of the players. 



26 Queen Mary. [act i. 



COURTENAY. 



The King is skilful at it ? 



NOAILLES. 

Very, my Lord. 

CoURTENAY. 

And the stakes high ? 

NOAILLES. 

But not beyond your means, 

CoURTENAY. " 

Well, I'm the first of players. I shall win. 

NOAILLES. 

With our advice and in our company. 

And so you well attend to the king's moves, 

I think you may. 

CoURTENAY. 

When do you meet ? 

^ NOAILLES. 

To-night. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 27 

CouRTENAY {aside). 

I will be there ; the fellow's at his tricks — 
Deep — I shall fathjom him. (Aloud.) Good-morning, 
Noailles. \^Exit Courtenay. 

NOAILLES. 

Good-day, my Lord. Strange game of chess ! a King 

That with her own pawns plays against a Queen, 

Whose play is all to find herself a King. 

Ay ; but this fine blue-blooded Courtenay seems 

Too princely for a pawn. Call him a Knight, 

That, with an ass's not an horse's head, 

Skips every way, from levity or from fear. 

Well, we shall use him somehow, so that Gardiner 

And Simon Renard spy not out our game 

Too early. Roger, thinkest thou that any one 

Suspected thee to be my man ? 

Roger. 

Not one, sir. 

Noailles. 

No ! the disguise was perfect. Let's away ! 

[Exeunt 



28 



Queen Mary. 



[act Ic 



SCENE IV. — LONDON. A ROOM IN THE 

PALACE. 

Elizabeth. Enter Courtenay. 



COURTENAY, 

So yet am I, 

Unless my friends and mirrors lie to me, 

A goodlier-looking fellow than this Philip. 

Pah! 

The Queen is ill advised : shall I turn traitor ? 

They've almost talk'd me into : yet the word 

Affrights me somewhat ; to be such a one 

As Harry Bolingbroke hath a lure in it. 

Good now, my Lady Queen, tho' by your age, 

And by your looks you are not w^orth the having. 

Yet by your crown you are. 

\Seemg Elizabeth. 

The Princess there ? 
If I tried her and la — she's amorous. 
Have we not heard of her in Edward's time. 
Her freaks and frolics with the late Lord Admiral t 
I do believe she'd yield. I should be still 
A party in the state ; and then, w^ho knows — 



SCENE IV.] Qitee7t Mary. 29 

Elizabeth. 
What are you musing on, my Lord of Devon ? 

COURTENAY. 

Has not the Queen — 

Elizabeth. 

Done what, Sir ? 

CoURTENAY. 

— Made you follow 
The Lady Suffolk and the Lady Lennox. 
You, 
The heir presumptive. 

Elizabeth. 

Why do you ask ? you know it. 

CoURTENAY. 

You needs must bear it hardly. 

Elizabeth. 

No, indeed ! 
I am utterly submissive to the Queen. 



30 Qtuen Mary. [act i. 

COURTENAY. 

Well, I was musing upon that ; the Queen 

Is both my foe and yours : we should be friends. 

Elizabeth. 

My Lord, the hatred of another to us 
Is no true bond of friendship. 

CoURTENAY. 

Might it not 
Be the rough preface of some closer bond ? 

Elizabeth. 

My Lord, you late were loosed from out the Tower, 

Where, like a butterfly in a chr}^salis, 

You spent your life ; that broken, out you flutter 

Thro' the new world, go zigzag, now would settle 

Upon this flower, now that ; but all things here 

At court are known ; you have solicited 

The Queen, and been rejected. 

Courtenay. 

Flower, she ! 
Half faded ! but you, cousin, are fresh and sweet 
As the first flower no bee has ever tried. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary 31 

Elizabeth. 

Are you the bee to try me ? why, but now 
I called you butterfly. 

COURTENAY. 

You did me wrong, 
L love not to be called a butterfly : 
Why do you call me butterfly ? 

Elizabeth. 
Why do you go so gay then ? 

CoURTENAY. 

Velvet and gold. 
This dress was made me as the Earl of Devon 
To- take my seat in ; looks it not right royal "^ 

Elizabeth. 
So royal that the Queen forbade you wearing it, 

Courtenay. 
I wear it then to spite her. 

Elizabeth. 

My Lord, my Lord ; 



32 QMee7i Mary. [act i. 

I see you in the Tower again. Her Majesty 

Hears you affect the Prince — prelates kneel to you. — 

COURTENAY. 

I am the noblest blood in Europe, Madam, 
A Courtenay of Devon, and her cousin. 

Elizabeth. 
She hears you make your boast that after all 
She means to wed you. Folly, my good Lord. 

Courtenay. 

How folly ? a great party in the state 
Wills me to wed her. 

Elizabeth. 
Failing her, my Lord, 
Doth not as great a party in the state 
Will you to wed me ? 

COURTENAV. 

Even so, fair lady. 

Elizabeth. 
Vou know to flatter ladies. 



SCENE IV.] Qtiee7t Mary. 33 

COURTENAY. 

Nay, I meant 
True matters of the heart. 



Elizabeth. 

My heart, my Lord, 
Is no great party in the state as yet. 

CoURTENAY. 

Great, said you ? nay, you shall be great. I love you, 
Lay my life in your hands. Can you be close ? 

Elizabeth. 

Can you, my Lord ? 

Courtenay. 

Close as a miser's casket. 
Listen : 

The King of France, Noailles the Ambassador, 
The Duke of Suffolk and Sir Peter Carew, 
Sir Thomas Wyatt, I myself, some others. 
Have sworn this Spanish marriage shall not be. 
If Mary will not hear us — well — conjecture — 
Were I in Devon with my wedded bride, 
3 



34 Queen Mary. [act i, 

The people there so worship me — Your ear ; 
You shall be Queen. 

Elizabeth. 

You speak too low, m)' Lord ; 
I cannot hear you. 

COURTENAY. 

I'll repeat it. 

Elizabeth. 

Nol 
Stand farther off, or you may lose your head. 

CoURTENAY. 

I have a head to lose for your sweet sake. 

Elizabeth. 

Have you, my Lord ? Best keep it for your own. 

Nay, pout not, cousin. 

Not many friends are mine, except indeed 

Among the many. I believe you mine ; 

And so you may continue mine, farewell. 

And that at once. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. 35 

Enter Mary, behind. 

Mary. 

Whispering — leagued together 
To bar me from my Philip. 

*CaURTENAY. 

Pray — consider — 

Elizabeth {seeing the Queen). 

Well, that's a noble horse of yours, my Lord. 
I trust that he will carry you well to-day, 
And heal your headache. 

COURTENAY. 

You are wild ; what headache ? 
Heartache, perchance ; not headache. 

Elizabeth {aside to Courtenay). 

Are you blind ? 
[Courtenay sees the Queen and exit. Exit Mary. 

Enter Lord William Howard. 

Howard. 

Was that my Lord of Devon 1 do not you 
Be seen in comers with my Lord of Devon. 
He hath fallen out of favor with the Queen. 



36 Queen Mary, [act i. 

She fears the Lords may side with you and him 
Against her marriage ; therefore is he dangerous. 
And if this Prince of fluff and feather come 
To woo you, niece, he is dangerous every way. 

Elizabeth. 
Not very dangerous that way, my good uncle. 

Howard. 

But your o\\ti state is full of danger here. 
The disaffected, heretics, reformers. 
Look to you as the one to crown their ends. 
Mix not yourself with any plot I pray you \ 
Nay, if by chance you hear of any such. 
Speak not thereof — no, not to your best friend, 
Lest you should be confounded with it. Still — 
Perinde ac cadaver — as the priest says. 
You know your Latin — quiet as a dead body. 
What was my Lord of Devon telling you ? 

Elizabeth. 
Whether he told me any thing or not, 
I follow your good counsel, gracious uncle. 
Quiet as a dead body. 



SCENE IV.] .Queen Mary. 37 

Howard. 

You do right well. 
I do not care to know ; but this I charge you, 
Tell Courtenay nothing. The Lord Chancellor , 
(I count it as a kind of virtue in him, 
He hath not many), as a mastiff dog 
May love a puppy cur for no more reason 
Than that the twain have been tied up together, 
Thus Gardiner — for the two were fellow-prisoners 
So many years in yon accursed Tower — 
Hath taken to this Courtenay. Look to it, niece, 
He hath no fence when Gardiner questions him j 
All oozes out ; yet him — because they know him 
The last White Rose, the last Plantagenet 
(Nay, there is Cardinal Pole, too), the people 
Claim as their natural leader — ay, some say. 
That you shall marry him, make him King belike. 

Elizabeth. 
Do they say so, good uncle ? 

Howard. 

Ay, good niece ! 
You should be plain and open with me, niece. 
Vou should not play upon me. 



38 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Elizabeth. 

No, good uncle. 

Efiter Gardiner. 

Gardiner. 
The Queen would see your Grace upon the moment 

Elizabeth. 
Why, my lord Bishop ? 

Gardiner. 

I think she means to counsel your v/ithdrawing 
To Ashridge, or some other country house. 

Elizabeth. 
Why, my lord Bishop ? 

Gardiner. 

I do but bring the message, know no more. 
Your Grace will hear her reasons from herself. 

Elizabeth. 

'Tis mine own wish fulfill'd before the word 
Was spoken, for in truth I had meant to crav^ 
Permission of her Highness to retire 
To Ashridge, and pursue my studies there. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. 39 

Gardiner. 
Madam, to have the ^vish before the word 
Is man's good Fair^^ — and the Queen is yours. 
I left her with rich jewels in her hand, 
Whereof 'tis like enough she means to make 
A farewell present to your Grace. 

Elizabeth. 

My Lord, 
I have the jewel of a loyal heart. 

Gardiner. 
I doubt it not, Madam, most loyal. 

\Bows low and exit, 

Howard. 

See, 
This comes of parleying w^ith my Lord of Devon. 
Well, well, you must obey ; and I myself 
Believe it will be better for your welfare. 
Your time will come. 

Elizabeth. 

I think my time will come. 
Uncle, 
1 am of sovereign nature, that I know, 



40 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Not to be quelPd ; and I have felt within me 

Stirrings of some great doom when God's just hour 

Peals — but this fierce old Gardiner — his big baldness, 

That irritable forelock which he rubs, 

His buzzard beak and deep-incavern'd eyes 

Half fright me. 

Howard. 

YouVe a bold heart ; keep it so. 
He cannot touch you save that you turn traitor ; 
And so take heed I pray you — you are one 
Who love that men should smile upon you, niece. 
They'd smile you into treason — some of them. 

Elizabeth. 
I spy the rock beneath the smiling sea. 
But if this Philip, the proud Catholic prince, 
And this bald priest, and she that hates me, seek 
In that lone house, to practise on my life, 
By poison, fire, shot, stab — 

Howard. 

They will not, niece. 
Mine is the fleet and all the power at sea — 
Or will be in a moment If they dared 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 41 

To harm you, I would blow this Philip and all 
Your trouble to the dogstar and the devil. 

Elizabeth. 
To the Pleiads, uncle ; they have lost a sister. 

Howard. 
But why say that ? what have you done to lose her ? 
Come, come, I will go with you to the Queen. \Exennt 



SCENE v. — A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 
Mary with Philip's miniature. Alice. 

Mary {kissing the miniature). 

Most goodly, Kinglike, and an emperor's son^ — 
A king to be, — is he not noble, girl ? 

Alice. 

Goodly enough, your Grace, and yet, methinks, 
I have seen goodlier. 

Mary. 

Ay j some waxen doh 
Thy baby eyes have rested on, belike j 



42 Qtteen Mary. [act i, 

All red and white, the fashion of our land. 
But my good mother came (God rest her soul) 
Of Spain, and I am Spanish in myself. 
And in my likings. 

Alice. 

By your Grace's leave 
Your royal mother came of Spain, but took 
To the English red and white. Your royal father 
(For so they say) was all pure lily and rose 
In his youth, and like a lady. 

Mary. 

O, just God! 
Sweet mother, you had time and cause enough 
To sicken of his lilies and his roses. 
Cast off, betray'd, defamed, divorced, forlorn ! 
And then the king — that traitor past forgiveness, 
The false archbishop fawning on him, married 
The mother of Elizabeth — a heretic 
Ev'n as she is ; but God hath sent me here 
To take such order with all heretics 
That it shall be, before I die, as tho' 
My father and my brother had not lived. 
What wast thou saying of this Lady Jan^ 
Now in the Tower ? 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 43 

Alice. 

Why, Madam, she was passing 
Some chapel down in Essex, and with her 
Lady Anne Wharton, and the Lady Anne 
Bow^d to the Pyx ; but Lady Jane stood up 
Stiff as the very backbone of heresy. 
And wherefore bow ye not, says Lady Anne, 
To him within there who made Heaven and Earth ? 
I can not and I dare not, tell your Grace 
What Lady Jane replied. 

Mary. 

But I will have it. 

Alice. 

She said — pray pardon me, and pity her — 
She hath hearken'd evil counsel — ah ! she said, 
The baker made liim. 

Mary. 

Monstrous ! blasphemous ! 
She ought to burn. Hence, thou {Exit Alice). No — 

being traitor 
Her head will fall : shall it? she is but a child. 
We do not kill the child for doing that 



44 Queen Mary. [act i. 

His father whipt him into doing — a head 

So full of grace and beauty ! would that mine 

Were half as gracious ! O, my lord to be, 

My love, for thy sake only. 

I am eleven years older than he is. 

But will he care for that ? 

No, by the holy Virgin, being noble, 

But love me only : then the bastard sprout, 

My sister, is far fairer than myself. 

Will he be drawn to her ? 

No, being of the true faith with, myself. 

Paget is for him — for to \ved with Spain 

Would treble England — Gardiner is against him \ 

The Council, people. Parliament against him ; 

But I wdll have him ! My hard father hated me j 

My brother rather hated me than loved ; 

My sister cowers and hates me. Holy Virgin, 

Plead with thy blessed Son ; grant me my prayer ; 

Give me my Philip ; and \ve two will lead 

The living waters of the Faith again 

Back thro' their widow'd channel here, and watch 

The parch'd banks rolling incense, as of old. 

To heaven, and kindled with the palms of Christ ! 

Enter Usher. 
Who waits, sir ? 



SCENE V.I Queen Mary. 45 

Usher. 
Madam, the Lord Chancellor. 

Mary. 
Bid him come in. {Eiiter Gardiner.) Good-morning, 
my good Lord. \Exit Ushhr. 

Gardiner. 

That every morning of your Majesty 

May be most good, is every morning's prayer 

Of your most loyal subject, Stephen Gardiner. 

Mary. 
Come you to tell me this, my Lord ? 

Gardiner. 

And more. 
Your people have begun to learn your worth. 
Your pious wish to pay King Edward's debts. 
Your lavish household curb'd, and the remission 
Of half that subsidy levied on the people, 
Make all tongues praise and all hearts beat for you. 
I'd have you yet more loved : the realm is poor, 
The exchequer at neap-ebb : we might withdraw 
Part of our garrison at Calais. 



46 Queen Mary. [act i. 

" Mary. 

Calais ! 
Our one point on the main, the gate of France ! 
I am Queen of England ; tabi mine eyes, mine heart 
But do not lose me Calais. 

Gardiner. 

Do not fear it. 
Of that hereafter. I say your Grace is loved. 
That I may keep you thus, who am your friend 
And ever faithful counsellor, might I speak ? 

Mary. 
I can forespeak your speaking. Would I marry 
Prince Philip, if all England hate him ? That is 
Your question, and I front it with another : 
Is it England, or a party ? Now, your answer. 

Gardiner. 
My answer is, I wear beneath my dress 
A shirt of mail : my house hath been assaulted, 
And when I walk abroad, the populace, 
With fingers pointed like so many daggers, 
Stab me in fancy, hissing Spain and Philip ; 
And when I sleep, a hundred men-at-arms 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 47 

Guard my poor dreams for England. Men would 

murder me, 
Because they think me favorer of this marriage. 

Mary. 

A .id that were hard upon you, my Lord Chancellor. 

Gardiner. 
But our young Earl of Devon — 

Mary. 

Earl of Devon ? 
I freed him from the Tower, placed him at Court ; 
I made him Earl of Devon, and — the fool — 
He wrecks his health and wealth on courtesans, 
And rolls himself in carrion like a dog. 

Gardiner. 
More like a school-boy that hath broken bounds, 
Sickening himself with sweets. 

Mary. 

I wdll not hear of him. 
Good, then, they will revolt : but I am Tudor, 
And shall control them. 



48 Queen Mary. [act [. 

Gardiner. 

I will help you, Madam, 
Even to the utmost. All the church is grateful. 
You have ousted the mock priest, repulpited 
The shepherd of St. Peter, raised the rood again, 
And brought us back the mass. I am all thanks 
To God and to your Grace : yet I know well, 
Your people, and I go with them so far. 
Will brook nor Pope nor Spaniard here to play 
The tyrant, or in commonwealth or church. 

Mary (showi?ig the picture). 

Is this the face of one who plays the tyrant.? 
Peruse it ; is it not goodly, ay, and gentle ? 

Gardiner. 

Madam, methinks a cold face and a haughty. 
And when your Highness talks of Courtenay — 
Ay, true — a goodly one. I would his life 
Were half as goodly (aside), 

Mary. 

What is that you mutter ? 

Gardiner. 
Oh, Madam, take it bluntly ; many Philip, 



SCENE v.] Qiteen Mary. 49 

And be stepmother of a score of sons ! 

The prince is known in Spain, in Flanders, ha ! 

For Philip — 

Mary. 

You offend us ; you may leave us. 
You see thro' warping glasses. 

Gardiner. 

If your Majest}" — 

Mary. 

I have sworn upon the body and blood of Christ 
I'll none but Philip. 

Gardiner. 

Hath your Grace so sworn ? 

Mary. 
Ay, Simon Renard knows it. 

Gardiner. 

News to me ! 
It then remains for your poor Gardiner, 
So you still care to trust him somewhat less 

4 



50 Queen Mary. [act i. 

Than Simon Renard, to compose the event 

In some such form as least may harm your Grace. 

Mary. 

ril have the scandal sounded to the mud. 
1 know it a scandal. 

Gardiner. 

All my hope is now 
It may be found a scandal. 

Mary. 

You offend us. 

Gardiner {aside). 

These princes are like children, must be physicked, 

The bitter in the sweet. I have lost mine office, 

It may be, thro' mine honesty, like a fool. \Exit. 

E?iter Usher. 

Mary. 



Who waits ? 



Usher. 
The Ambassador from France, your Grace. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 51 

Mary. 
Bid him come in. Good-morning, Sir de Noailles. 

\Exit Usher. 

Noailles {entering). 
A happy morning to your Majesty. 

Mary. 

And I should some time have a happy morning; 

I have had none yet. What'says the King your master ? 

Noailles. 
Madam, my master hears with much alarm, 
That you may marry Philip, Prince of Spain — 
Foreseeing, with whatever unwillingness, 
That if this Philip be the titular king 
Of England, and at war with him, your Grace 
And kingdom will be suck'd into the war, 
Ay, tho' you long for peace ; wherefore, my master, 
If but to prove your Majest}''s good will, 
Would fain have some fresh treaty drawn between you. 

Mary. 

Why some fresh treaty ? wherefore should I do it ? 
Sir, if we marr}^, we shall still maintain 
All former treaties with his Majesty. 



52 Qiteeii Mary. [act i. 

Our royal word for that ! and your good master, 
Pray God he do not be the first to break them, 
Must be content 'with that; and so, farewell. 

NoAiLLES {goings returns), 

I would your answer had been other. Madam, 
For I foresee dark days. 

Mary. 

And so do I, sir ; 
Your master works against me in the dark. 
I do believe he holp Northumberland 
Against me. 

NOAILLES. 

Nay, pure fantasy, your Grace. 
Why should he move against you ? 

Mary. 

Will you hear why ? 
Mary of Scotland, — for I have not own'd 
My sister, and I will not, — after me 
Is heir of England ; and my royal father. 
To make the crown of Scotland one with ours. 
Had mark'd her for my brother Edward's bride ; 
Ay, but your king stole her a babe from Scotland 
In order to betroth her to your Dauphin. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 53 

See then : 

Mary of Scotland, married to your Dauphin, 

Would make our England, France ; 

Mary of England, joining hands with Spain, 

Would be too strong for France. 

Yea, were there issue born to her, Spain and we, 

One crown, might rule the world. There lies your fear. 

That is your drift. You play at hide and seek. 

Show me your faces ! 

NOAILLES. 

Madam, I am amazed : 
French, I must needs wish all good things for France. 
That must be pardon'd me ; but I protest 
Your Grace's policy hath a farther flight 
Than mine into the future. We but seek 
Some settled ground for peace to stand upon. 

Mary. 

Well, we will leave all this, sir, to our council. 
Have you seen Philip ever ? 

NOAILLES. 

Only once, 

Mary. 

Is this like Philip ? 



y 



54 Queen Mary. [act i, 

NOAILLES. 

Ay, but nobler-looking. 

Mary. 
Hath he the large ability of the Emperor ? 

NOAILLES. 

No, surely. 

Mary. 

I can make allowance for thee, 
Thou speakest of the enemy of thy king. 

Noailles. 
Make no allowance for the naked truth. 
He is every way a lesser man than Charles ; 
Stone-hard, ice-cold — no dash of daring in him. 

Mary. 
If cold, his life is pure. 

Noailles. 

Why (smiling)^ no, indeed. 

Mary. 

Sayst thou ? 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 55 

NOAILLES. 

A very wanton life indeed {smiling). 

Mary. 
Your audience is concluded, sir. \Exit Noailles. 

You cannot 
Learn a man's nature from his natural foe. 

Enter Usher. 
Who waits? 

Usher. 
The ambassador of Spain, your Grace. 

\Exit 

Enter Simon Renard. 

Mary. 

Thou art ever welcome, Simon Renard. Hast thou 
Brought me the letter which thine Emperor promised 
Long since, a formal offer of the hand 
Of Philip? 

Renard. 

Nay, your Grace, it hath not reach'd me. 
I know not wherefore — some mischance of flood. 
And broken bridge, or spavin'd horse, or wave 
And wind at their old battle ; he must have written. 



56 Queen Mary. "[act l 

Mary. 

But Philip never writes me one poor word, 
Which in his absence had been all my wealth. 
Strange in a wooer ! 

Renard. 

Yet I know the Prince, 
So 3^our king-parliament suffer him to land. 
Yearns to set foot upon your island shore. 

Mary. 

God change the pebble which his kingly foot 
First presses into some more costly stone 
Than ever blinded eye. I'll have one mark it 
And bring it me. I'll have it burnish'd firelike ; 
I'll set it round with gold, with pearl, with diamond. 
Let the great angel of the church come with him ; 
Stand on the deck and spread his wings for sail ! 
God lay the waves and strew the storms at sea. 
And here at land among the people. O Renard, 
I am much beset, I am almost in despair. 
Paget is ours. Gardiner perchance is ours ; 
But for our heretic Parliament — 

Renard. 

O Madam, 

You fly your thoughts like kites. My master, Charles, 



SCENE V ] Queen Mary. 57 

Bade you go softly with your heretics here, 
Until your throne had ceased to tremble. Then 
Spit them like larks for aught I care. Besides, 
When Henry broke the carcass of your church 
To pieces, there were many wolves among you 
Who dragg'd the scattered limbs into their den. 
The Pope would have you make them render these ; 
So would your cousin, Cardinal Pole ; ill counsel ! 
These let them keep at present ; stir not yet 
This matter of the Church lands. At his coming 
Your star will rise. 

Mary. 

My star ! a baleful one. 

I see but the black night, and hear the wolf. 

What star ? 

Rexard. 

Your star will be your princely son, 
Heir of this England and the Netherlands ! 
And if your wolf the while should howl for more 
We'll dust him from a bag of Spanish gold. 
I do believe, I have dusted some already. 
That, soon or late, your parliament is ours. 

Mary. 

Why do they talk so foully of your Prince, 
Renard ? 



58 Queen Mary. [act i. 



Renard 

tof ; 
Is to be lied about 



The lot of Princes. To sit high 



Mary. 

They call him cold, 
Haughty, ay, worse. 

Renard. 

Why, doubtless, Philip shows 
Some of the bearing of your blue blood — still 
All within measure — nay, it well becomes him. 

Mary. 
Hath he the large ability of his father ? 

Renard. 
Nay, some believe that he will go beyond him. 

Mary. 
Is this like him ? 

Renard. 

Ay, somewhat ; but your Philip 
Is the most princelike Prince beneath the sun. 
This is a daub to Philip. 



SCENE v.] Qiceen Majy. 59 

Mary. 

Of a pure life ? 

Renard. 

As an angel among angels. Yea, by Heaven, 
The text — Your Highness knows it, " Whosoever 
Looketh after a woman,'' would not graze 
The Prince of Spain. You are happy in him there. 
Chaste as your grace ! 

Mary. 

I am happy in him there. 

Renard. 

And would be altogether happy, Madam, 

So that your sister were but look'd to closer. 

You have sent her from the court, but then she goes, 

I warrant, not to hear the nightingales. 

But hatch you some new treason in the woods. 

Mary. 

We have our spies abroad to catch her tripping. 
And then if caught, to the Tower. 

Renard. 

The Tower ! the block. 



6o Queen Mary, [act i. 

The word has turn'd your Highness pale ; the thing 
Was no such scarecrow in your father's time. 
I have heard, the tongue yet quiver'd with the jest 
When the head leapt — so common ! I do think 
To save your crown that it must come to this. 

Mary. 
I love her not, but all the people love her, 
And would not have her even to the Tower. 

Renard. 

Not yet ; but your old Traitors of the Tower — 
Why, when you put NorthumlDerland to death, 
The sentence having past upon them all, 
Spared you the Duke of Suffolk, Guildford Dudley. 
Ev'n that young girl who dared to wear your crown ? 

Mary. 

Dared, no, not that ; the child obeyed her father. 
Spite of her tears her father forced it on her. 

Renard. 
Good Madam, when the Roman wish'd to reign, 
He slew not him alone who wore the purple. 
But his assessor in the throne, perchance 
A child more innocent than Lady Jane. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 6 1 

Mary. 
I am English Queen, not Roman Emperor. 

Rexard. 

Yet ^00 much mercv is a want of mercv, 
And wastes more hfe. Stamp out tlie fire, or this 
Will smoulder and re-flame, and burn the throne 
Where you should sit with Philip : he will not come 
Till she be gone. 

Mary. 

Indeed, if that were true — 
But 1 must say farewell. I am somewhat faint 
With our long talk. Tho' Queen, I am not Queen 
Of mine own heart, which every now and then 
Beats me half dead : yet stay, this golden chain — 
My father on a birthday gave it me. 
And I have broken with my father — take 
And wear it as memorial of a morning 
Which found me full of foolish doubts, and leaves me 
As hopeful. 

Renard (aside), 

WTiew — the folly of all follies 
Is to be love-sick for a shadow. {Aloud) Madam, 



62 Queen Mary, [act i. 

This chains me to your service, not with gold, 
But dearest links of love. Farewell, and trust me, 
Philip is yours. {Exit 

Mary. 
Mine — but not yet all mine. 

E7iter Usher. 

Usher. 
Your Council is in Session, please your Majesty. 

Mary. 

Sir, let them sit. I must have time to breathe. 

No, say I come. {Exit Usher.) I won by boldness once. 

The Emperor counsell'd me to fly to Flanders. 

I would not ; but a hundred miles I rode, 

Sent out my letters, call'd my friends together. 

Struck home and won. 

And when the Council would not crown me — thought 

To bind me first by oaths I could not keep. 

And keep with Christ and conscience — was it boldness 

Or weakness that won there ? when I their Queen, 

Cast myself down upon my knees before them, 

And those hard men brake into woman tears, 

Ev'n Gardiner, all amazed, and in that passion 

Gave me my Crown. 



SCENE v.] Qzieen Mary. 63 

Enter Alice. 

Girl ; hast thou ever heard 
Slanders against Prince Philip in our Court ? 

Alice. 
What slanders ? I, your Grace ; no, never. 

Mary. 

Nothing ? 

Alice. 
Never, your Grace. 

Mary. 

See that you neither hear them nor repeat ! 

Alice (aside). 

Good Lord ! but I have heard a thousand such. 
Ay, and repeated them as often — mum ! 
Why comes that old fox-Fleming back again ? 

E7iter Renard. 

Renard. 

Madam, I scarce had left your Grace's presence 

Before I chanced upon the messenger 

Who brings that letter which we w^aited for — 



64 Queen Mary. [act i. 

The formal offer of Prince Philip's hand. 
It craves an instant answer, Ay or No ? 

Mary. 

hxi instant, Ay or No ! the Council sits. 
Give it me quick. 

Alice {stepping before her). 

Your Highness is all trembling. 

Mary. 
Make way. \_Exit into the Council Chamber, 

Alice. 

O, Master Renard, Master Renard, 
If you have falsely painted your fine Prince ; 
Praised, where you should have blamed him, I pray God 
No woman ever love you, Master Renard. 
It breaks my heart to hear her moan at night 
As tho' the nightmare never left her bed. 

Renard. 

My pretty maiden, tell me, did you ever 
Nligh for a beard t . 

Alice. 

That's not a pretty question. 



SCENE v.] Qtceen Mary, 65 

Renard. 

Not prettily put ? I mean, my pretty maiden, 
A pretty man for such a pretty maiden. 

Alice. 

My Lord of Devon is a pretty man. 

I hate him. Well, but if I have, what then ? 

Renard. 

Then, pretty maiden, you should know that whether 
A wind be warm or cold, it serves to fan 
A kindled fire. 

Alice. 
According to the song. 

" His friends would praise him, I believed 'em, 
His foes would blame him, and I scorned 'em, 

His friends — as Angels I received 'em, 
His foes — The Devil had suborn'd 'em." 

Renard. 

Peace, pretty maiden. 

I hear them stirring in the Council Chamber. 
Lord Paget's " Ay " is sure — who else ? and yet, 
They are all too much at odds to close at once 
In one full throated No! Her Highness comes. 
5 



66 



Queen Mary. 



Enter Mary. 



[act I. 



How deathly pale ! 



Alice. 

a chair, your Highness. 

{Bringing one to the Queen. 



The Council ? 



Renard, 



Madam, 



Mary. 

Ay ! My Philip is all mine. 

\Sinks into chair ^ half fainting. 



Q^ceen Mary. 67 



ACT II. 

SCENE I. — ALLINGTON CASTLE. 

Sir Thomas Wyatt. 
I do not hear from Carew or the Duke 
Of Suffolk, and till then I should not move. 
The Duke hath gone to Leicester j Carew stirs 
In Devon : that fine porcelain Courtenay, 
Save that he fears he might be crack'd in using, 
(I have known a semi-madman in my time 

So fancy-ridd'n) should be in Devon too. 

Enter William. 
News abroad^ William ? 

William. 
None so new, Sir Thomas, and none so old, Sir 
Thomas. No new news that Philip comes to wed ]\Lir}^, 
no old news that all men hate it. Old Sir Thomas 
would have hated it. The bells are ringing at Maid- 
stone. Doesn't your worship hear? 



68 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Wyatt. 

Ay, for the Saints are come to reign again. 
Most like it is a Saint's-day. There's no call 
As yet for me \ so in this pause, before 
The mine be fired, it were a pious work 
To string my father's sonnets, left about 
Like loosely-scatter'd jewels, in fair order, 
And head them with a lamer rhyme of mine, 
To grace his memory. 



William. 

Ay, why not. Sir Thomas ? He was a fine courtier, 
he ; Queen Anne loved him. All the women loved 
him. I loved him, I was in Spain with him. I couldn't 
eat in Spain, I couldn't sleep in Spain. I hate Spain, 
Sir Thomas. 

Wyatt. 

But thou couldst drink in Spain if I remember. 



William. 

Sir Thomas, we may grant the wine. Old Sir Thomas 
always granted the wine. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 69 

Wyatt. 
Hand me the casket with my father's sonnets. 

William. 
Ay — sonnets — a fine courtier of the old Court, old 
Sir Thomas. \_Exit. 

Wyatt. 

Courtier of many courts, he loved the more 

His own gray towers, plain life and lettered peace, 

To read and rhyme in solitary fields, 

The lark above, the nightingale below, 

And answer them in song. The Sire begets 

Not half his likeness in the son. I fail 

Where he was fullest : yet — to write it down. 

\He writes. 

Re-enter William. 

William. 

There is news, there is news, and no call for sonnet- 
sorting now, nor for sonnet-making either, but ten 
thousand men on Penenden Heath all calling after 
your worship, and your worship's name heard into 
Maidstone market, and your worship the first man in 
Kent and Christendom, for the world's up, and your 
worship a-top of it. 



JO Qiceen Mary. [act ii, 

Wyatt. 
Inverted -^sop — mountain out of mouse. 
Say for ten thousand ten — and pothouse knaves, 
Brain-dizzied with a draught of morning ale. 

Enter Antony Knyvett. 

William. 
Here's Antony Kn}^^ett. 

Knyvett. 

Look you, Master Wyatt, 
Tear up that woman's work there. 

Wyatt. 

No ; not these, 
Dumb children of my father, that will speak 
When I and thou and all rebellions lie 
Dead bodies without voice. Song flies you know 
For ages. 

" Knyvett. 
Tut, your sonnet's a flying ant, 
W'inof'd for a moment. 



SCENE I.] Qiceen Mary. 71 

Wyatt. 

Well, for mine own work, \fea7'ing the paper^ 
It lies there in six pieces at your feet ; 
For all that I can carr}' it in my head. 

KX^'^'ETT. 

If you can carry your head upon your shoulders. 

Wyatt. 

I fear you come to carry it off my shoulders, 
And sonnet-making's safer. 

Knyvett. 

Why, good Lord, 
Write you as many sonnets as you will. 
Ay, but not now^ \ what, have you eyes, ears, brains ? 
This Philip and the black-faced swarms of Spain, 
The hardest, cruellest people in the world. 
Come locusting upon us, eat us up, 
Confiscate lands, goods, money — Wyatt, Wyatt, 
Wake, or the stout old island will become 
A rotten limb of Spain. They roar for you 
On Penenden Heath, a thousand of them — more — 
All arm'd, waiting a leader ; there's no glor}^ 
Like his who saves his country : and you sit 



72 Q2tee7i Mmy. [act ii. 

Sing-songing here ; but, if I'm any judge, 
By God, you are as poor a poet, Wyatt, 
As a good soldier. 

Wyatt. 

You as poor a critic 
As an honest friend : you stroke me on one cheek, 
Buffet the other. Come, you bluster, Antony ! 
You know I know all this. I must not move 
Until I hear from Carew and the Duke. 
I fear the mine is fired before the time. 

Knyvett {showing a paper). 

But here's some Hebrew. Faith, L half forgot it. 
Look ; can you make it English 1 A strange youth 
Suddenly thrust it on me, whispered, " Wyatt," 
And whisking round a corner, show'd his back 
Before I read his face. 

Wyatt. 
Ha ! Courtenay's cipher. \_Reads, 

" Sir Peter Carew fled to France : it is thoudit the 
Duke will be taken. I am with you still ; but, for 
appearance' sake, stay with the Queen. Gardiner knows, 
but the Council are all at odds, and the Queen hath no 
force for resistance. Move, if you move, at once.'* 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary, 73 

Is Peter Carew fled ? Is the Duke taken ? 

Down scabbard, and out sword ! and let Rebellion 

Roar till throne rock, and crown fall. No ; not that ; 

But we will teach Queen Mary how to reign. 

Who are those that shout below there ? 

> Knyvett. 

Why, some fifty 
That foUow'd me from Penenden Heath in hope 
To hear you speak. 

Wyatt. 
Open the window, Knyvett ; 
The mine is fired, and I will speak to them. 

Men of Kent ; England of England ; you that have 
kept your old customs upright, while all the rest of Eng- 
land bow^d theirs to the Norman, the cause that hath 
brought us together is not the cause of a county or a 
shire, but of this England, in whose crown our Kent is 
the fairest jewel. Philip shall not wed Mary ; and ye 
have called me to be your leader. I know Spain. I 
have been there with my father; I have seen them in 
their own land; have marked the haughtiness of their 
nobles ; the cruelty of their priests. If this man marry 
our Queen, however the Council and the Commons ma)' 



74 Q2tee7i Mary. [act ii. 

fence round his power with restriction, he will be 
King, King of England, my masters ; and the Queen, 
and the laws, and the people, his slaves. What? shall 
we have Spain on the throne and in the parliament; 
Spain in the pulpit and on the law-bench ; Spain in all 
the great offices of state ; Spain in our ships, in our 
forts, in our houses, in our beds ? 

Crowd. 

No ! no ! no Spain. 

William. 
No Spain in our beds — that were worse than all. I 
have been there with old Sir Thomas, and the beds 
I know. I hate Spain. 

A Peasant. 

But, Sir Thomas, must we levy war against the 
Queen's Grace ? 

Wyatt. 
No, my friend ; war/^r the Queen's Grace — to save 
her from herself and Philip — war against Spain. And 
think not we shall be alone — thousands will flock to us. 
The Council, the Court itself, is on our side. The Lord 
Chancellor himself is on our side. The King of France 
\s with us ; the King of Denmark is with us ; the world 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 75 

is with us — war against Spain! And if we move not 
now, yet it will be known that we have moved ; and if 
Philip come to be King, O, my God ! the rope, the 
rack, the thumb-screw, the stake, the fire. If we move 
not now, Spain moves, bribes our nobles with her gold, 
and creeps, creeps snake-like about our legs till we 
cannot move at all ; and ye know, my masters, that 
wherever Spain hath ruled she hath withered all beneath 
her. Look at the New World — a paradise made hell j 
the red man, that good helpless creature, starved, 
maim'd, flogg'd, flay'd, burn'd, boil'd, buried alive, 
worried by dogs ; and here, nearer home, the Nether- 
lands, Sicily, Naples, Lombardy. I say no more — only 
this, their lot is yours. Forward to London with me ! 
forward to London ! If ye love your liberties or your 
skins, forward to London ! 

Crowd. 
Forward to London ! A Wyatt ! a Wyatt ! 

Wyatt. 

But first to Rochester, to take the guns 
From out the vessels lying in the river. 
Then on. 

A Peasant. 

Ay, but I fear we be too few. Sir Thomas. 



76 Qiceen Mary. [act ii. 

Wyatt. 

Not many yet. The world as yet, my friend, 
Is not half-waked ; but every parish tower 
Shall clang and clash alarum as we pass, 
And pour along the land, and swolPn and fed 
With indraughts and side-currents, in full force 
Roll upon London. 

Crowd. 
A Wyatt! a Wyatt ! Forward! 

Knyvett. 
Wyatt, shall we proclaim Elizabeth? 

Wyatt. 

I'll think upon it, Knyvett. 

Knyvett. 

Or Lady Jane ? 

Wyatt. 

No, poor soul ; no. 

Ah, gray old castle of Allington, green field 
Beside the brimming Medway, it may chance 
That I shall never look upon you more. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 77 

Knyvett. 
Come, now, you're sonnetting again. 

Wyatt. 

Not I. 
I'll have my head set higher in the state ; 
Or — if the Lord God will it — on the stake. [Exeunt. 



SCENE II. — GUILDHALL. 

Sir Thomas White (The Lord Mayor), Lord William 
Howard, Sir Ralph Bagenhall, Aldermen 
and Citizens. 

White. 
I trust the Queen comes hither with her guards. 

Howard. 

A-y, all in arms. 

[Several of the Citizens move hastily out of the hall. 
Why do they hurry out there ? 

White. 

My Lord, cut out the rotten from your apple, 
Your apple eats the better. Let them go. 



78 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

They go like those old Pharisees in John 
Convicted by their conscience, arrant cowards, 
Or tamperers with that treason out of Kent. 
When will her Grace be here ? 

Howard. 

In some few minutes. 
She will address your guilds and companies. 
I have striven in vain to raise a man for her. 
But help her in this exigency, make 
Your city loyal, and be the mightiest man 
This day in England. 

White. 

. I am Thomas White. 
Few things have faiPd to which I set my will. 
I do my most and best. 

Howard. 

You know that after 
The Captain Brett, who went with your train bands 
To fight with Wyatt, had gone over to him 
With all his men, the Queen in that distress 
Sent Cornwallis and Hastings to the traitor, 
Feigning to treat with him about her marriage — 
Know too what Wyatt said. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 79 

White. 

He'd sooner be, 
While this same marriage question was being argued, 
Trusted than trust — the scoundrel — and demanded 
Possession of her person and the Tower. 

Howard. 
And four of her poor Council too, my Lord, 
As hostages. 

White. 

I know it. What do and say 
Your Council at this hour ? 

Howard. 

I will trust you. 
We fling ourselves on you, my Lord. The Council, 
The parliament as well, are troubled waters ; 
And yet like waters of the fen they know not 
Which way to flow. All hangs on her address, 
And upon you. Lord Mayor. 

White. 

How looked the city 
When now you past it ? Quiet ? 



8o Queen. Mary. [act ii. 

Howard. 

Like our Council, 

Your city is divided. As we past, 

Some haiPd, some hiss'd us. There were citizens 

Stood each before his shut-up booth, and look'd 

As grim and grave as from a funeral. 

And here a knot of ruffians all in rags, 

With execrating execrable eyes, 

Glared at the citizen. Here was a young mother, 

Her face on flame, her red hair all blown back. 

She shrilling " Wyatt,'* while the boy she held 

Mimicked and piped her " Wyatt," as red as she 

In hair and cheek ; and almost elbowing her, 

So close they stood, another, mute as death. 

And white as her own milk ; her babe in arms 

Had felt the faltering of his mother's heart. 

And look'd as bloodless. Here a pious Catholic, 

Mumbling and mixing up in his scared prayers 

Heaven and earth's Maries ; over his bow'd shoulder 

Scowl'd that world-hated and world-hating beast, 

A haggard Anabaptist. Many such groups. 

The names of Wyatt, Elizabeth, Courtenay, 

Nay the Queen's right to reign — 'fore God, the rogues — 

Were freely buzz'd among them. So I say 

Your city is divided, and I fear 

One scruple, this or that way, of success 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 8i 

Would turn it thither. Wherefore now the Queen 
In this low pulse and palsy of the state, 
Bade me to tell you that she counts on you 
And on myself as her two hands ; on you, 
In your own city, as her right, my Lord, 
For you are loyal. 

White. 

Am I Thomas White ? 
One word before she comes. Elizabeth — 
Her name is much abused among these traitors: 
Where is she t She is loved by all of us. 
I scarce have heart to mingle in this matter. 
If she should be mishandled ? 

Howard. 

No ; she shall not. 
The Queen had written her word to come to court : 
Methought I smelt out Renard in the letter. 
And fearing for her, sent a secret missive, 
Which told her to be sick. Happily or not. 
It found her sick indeed. 

White. 

God send her well ; 
Here comes her Royal Grace. 



82 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Efiter Guards, Mary, and Gardiner. Sir Thomas 
White leads her to a raised seat on the dais. 

White. 

I, the Lord Mayor, and these our companies 
And guilds of London, gathered here, beseech 
Your Highness to accept our lowliest thanks 
For your most princely presence ; and we pray 
That we, your true and loyal citizens. 
From your own royal lips, at once may know 
The wherefore of this coming, and so learn 
Your Royal will, and do it. — I, Lord Mayor 
Of London, and our Guilds and Companies. 

Mary. 

In mine own person am I come to you. 

To tell you what indeed ye see and know, 

How traitorously these rebels out of Kent 

Have made strong head against ourselves and you. 

They would not have me wed the Prince of Spain ; 

That was their pretext — so they spake at first — 

But we sent divers of our Council to them. 

And by their answers to the question ask'd, 

It doth appear this marriage is the least 

Of all their quarrel. 

They have betrayed the treason of their hearts : 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 83 

Seek to possess our person, hold our Tower, 

Place and displace our councillors, and use 

Both us and, them according as they will. 

Now what am I ye know right well — your Queen ; 

To whom, when I was wedded to the realm 

And the realm's laws (the spousal ring whereof, 

Not ever to be laid aside, I wear 

Upon ihis finger), ye did promise full 

Allegiance and obedience to the death. 

Ye know my father was the rightful heir 

Of England, and his right came down to me, 

Corroborate by your acts of Parliament : 

And as ye were most loving unto him. 

So doubtless will ye show yourselves to me. 

Wherefore, ye will not brook that any one 

'Should seize our person, occupy our state, 

More specially a traitor so presumptuous 

As this same Wyatt, who hath tampered with 

A public ignorance, and, under color 

Of such a cause as hath no color, seeks 

To bend the laws to his own will, and yield 

Full scope to persons rascal and forlorn. 

To make free spoil and havoc of your goods. 

N'ow as your Prince, I say, 

I, that was never mother, cannot tell 

Movv' mothers love their children ; yet, methinks, 



84 Queen Mary. [act 

A prince as naturally may love his people 

As these their children j and be sure your Queen 

So bves you, and so loving, needs must deem 

This love by you returned as heartily ; 

And thro* this common knot and bond of love, 

Doubt not they will be speedily overthrown. 

As to this marriage, ye shall understand 

We made thereto no treaty of ourselves, 

And set no foot theretoward unadvised 

Of all our Privy Council ; furthermore, 

This marriage had the assent of those to whom 

The king, my father, did commit his trust ; 

Who not alone esteem'd it honorable. 

But for the wealth and glory of our realm, 

And all our loving subjects, most expedient. 

As to myself, 

I am not so set on wedlock as to choose 

But where I list, nor yet so amorous 

That I must needs be husbanded ; I thank God, 

I have lived a virgin, and I noway doubt 

But that with God's grace, I can live so still. 

Yet if it might please God that I should leave 

Some fruit of mine own body after me. 

To be your king, ye would rejoice thereat, 

And it would be your comfort, as I trust ; 

And truly, if I either thought or knew 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 85 

This marriage should bring loss or danger to you, 

My subjects, or impair in anyway 

This royal state of England, I would never 

Consent thereto, nor marry while I live ; 

Moreover, if tliis marriage should not seem, 

Before our own high Court of Parliament, 

To be of rich advantage to our realm, 

We will refrain, and not alone from this, 

Likewise from any other, out of which 

Looms the least chance of peril to our realm. 

Wherefore be bold, and with your lawful Prince 

Stand fast against our enemies and yours, 

And fear them not. I fear them not. My Lord, 

I leave Lord William Howard in your city, 

To guard and keep you whole and safe from all 

The spoil and sackage aim'd at by these rebels, 

Who mouth and foam against the Prince of Spain. 

Voices. 
Long live Queen Mary ! 

Down with Wyatt ! 

The Queen ! 

White. 

Three voices from our guilds and companies ! 

Vou are shy and proud like Englishmen, my masters. 



86 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

And will not trust your voices. Understand : 

Your lawful Prince hath come to cast herself 

On loyal hearts and bosoms, hoped to fall 

Into the wide-spread arms of fealty, 

And finds you statues. Speak at once — and all ! 

For whom ? 

Our sovereign Lady by King Harry's will ; 

The Queen of England — or the Kentish Squire ? 

I know you loyal. Speak ! in the name of God ! 

The Queen of England or the rabble of Kent ? 

The reeking dungfork master of the mace ! 

Your havings wasted by the scythe and spade — 

Your rights and charters hobnail'd into slush — 

Your houses fired — your gutters bubbling blood — 

Acclamation. 
No ! No ! The Queen ! the Queen ! 

White. 

Your Highness hears 
This burst and bass of loyal harmony, 
And how we each and all of us abhor 
The venomous, bestial, devilish revolt 
Of Thomas Wyatt. Hear us now make oath 
To raise your Highness thirty thousand men. 
And arm and strike as with one hand, and brush 



SCENE II.] Qiteen Mary. 87 

This Wyatt from our shoulders, like a flea 
That might have leapt upon us unawares. 
Swear with me, noble fellow-citizens, all. 
With all your trades, and guilds, and companies. 

Citizens. 
We swear ! 

Mary. 

We thank your Lordship and your loyal city. 

\Exit Mary attended 

White. 
I trust this day, thro' God, I have saved the crown. 

First Alderman. 
Ay, so my Lord of Pembroke in command 
Of all her force be safe ; but there are doubts. 

Second Alderman. 
I hear that Gardiner, coming with the Queen, 
And meeting Pembroke, bent to his saddle-bow, 
As if to win the man by flattering him. 
Is he so safe to fight upon her side ? 

First Alderman. 
If not, there's no man safe. 



88 Queen Mary. [act ii, 

White. 

Yes, Thomas White. 
I am safe enough j no man need flatter me. 

Second Alderman. 
Nay, no man need ; but did you mark our Queen ? 
The color freely play'd into her face, 
And the half sight which makes her look so stern, 
Seem'd thro' that dim dilated world of hers, 
To read our faces ; I have never seen her 
So queenly or so goodly. 

White. 

Courage, sir, 
That makes or man or woman look their goodliest. 
Die like the torn fox dumb, but never whine 
Like that poor heart, Northumberland, at the block. 

Bagenhall. 
The man had children, and he whined for those. 
Methinks most men are but poor-hearted, else 
Should we so doat on courage, were it commoner ? 
The Queen stands up, and speaks for her own self ; 
And all men cry, she is queenly, she is goodly. 
Yet she's no goodlier ; tho' my Lord Mayor here, 



V 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 89 

By his own rule, he hath been so bold to-day, 
Should look more goodly than the rest of us. 

White. 

Goodly ? I feel most goodly heart and hand, 
And strong to throw ten Wyatts and all Kent. 
Ha ! ha ! sir ; but you jest ; I love it : a jest 
In time of danger shows the pulses even. 
Be merry ! yet, Sir Ralph, you look but sad. 
I dare avouch you'd stand up for yourself, 
Tho' all the world should bay like winter wolves. 

Bagenhall. 
Who knows ? the man is proven by the hour. 

White. 

The man should make the hour, not this the man ; 
And Thomas White will prove this Thomas Wyatt, 
And he will prove an Iden to this Cade, 
And he will play the Walworth to this Wat j 
Come, sirs, we prate ; hence all — gather your men — 
Myself must bustle. Wyatt comes to Southwark ; 
I'll have the drawbridge hewn into the Thames, 
And see the citizen arm'd. Good day ; good day. 

\Exit White 



90 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Bagenhall. 
One of mucKoutdoor bluster. 

Howard. 

For all that, 
Most honest, brave, and skilful ; and his wealth 
A fountain of perennial alms — his fault 
So thoroughly to believe in his own self. 

Bagenhall. 

Yet thoroughly to believe in one's own self, 
So one's own self be thorough, were to do 
Great things, my lord. 

Howard. 
It may be 

Bagenhall. 

I have heard 
One of your council fleer and jeer at him. 

Howard. 

The nursery-cocker'd child will jeer at aught 
That may seem strange beyond his nursery. 
The statesman that shall jeer and fleer at men, 
Makes enemies for himself and for his king ; 



SCENE III.] Qiiee7i Mary. 91 

And if he jeer not seeing the true man 
Behind his folly, he is thrice the fool ; 
And if he see the man and still will jeer, 
He is child and fool, and traitor to the State. 
Who is he ? Let me shun him. 

Bagenhall. 

Nay, my Lord, 
He is damn'd enough already. 

Howard. 

I must set 
The guard at Ludgate. Fare you well. Sir Ralph, 

Bagenhall. 

"Who knows?" lam for England. But who knows, 
That knows the Queen, the Spaniard, and the Pope, 
Whether I be for Wyatt, or the Queen ? [Exeunt 



SCENE in. — LONDON BRIDGE. 
Enter Sir Thomas Wyatt and Brett. 

Wyatt. 

Brett, when the Duke of Norfolk moved against us 
Thou criedst " a Wyatt," and flying to our side 



92 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Left his all bare, for which I love thee, Brett. 
Have for thine asking aught that I can give, 
For thro' thine help we are come to London Bridge ; 
But how to cross it balks me. I fear we cannot. 

Brett. 
Nay, hardly, save by boat, swimming, or wings. 

Wyatt. 
Last night I climb'd into the gate-house, Brett, 
And scared the gray old porter and his wife. 
And then I crept along the gloom and saw 
They had hewn the drawbridge down into the river. 
It roll'd as black as death ; and that same tide 
Which, coming with our coming, seem'd to smile 
And sparkle like our fortune as thou saidest. 
Ran sunless down, and moan'd against the piers. 
But o'er the chasm I saw Lord William Howard 
By torchlight, and his guard j four guns gaped at me, 
Black, silent mouths : had Howard spied me there 
And made them speak, as well he might have done, 
Their voice had left me none to tell you this. 
What shall we do ? 

Brett. 
On somehow. To go back 
Were to lose all. 



SCENE III.] Queeji Mary. 93 

Wyatt. 

On over London Bridge 
We cannot : stay we cannot ; there is ordnance 
On the White Tower and on the Devil's Tower, 
And pointed full at Southwark ; we must round 
By Kingston Bridge. 

Brett. 
Ten miles about. 

Wyatt. 

Ev'n so. 
But I have notice from our partisans 
Within the city that they will stand by us 
If Ludgate can be reached by dawn to-morrow. 

Enter one of Wyatt's men, 

Man. 

Sir Thomas, I've found this paper, pray your worship 
read it ; I know not my letters ; the old priests taught 
me nothing. 

Wyatt {reads), 
^' Whosoever will apprehend the traitor Thomas 
Wyatt shall have a hundred pounds for reward.'' 



I 



L 



94 Que en Mary. [act ii 

Man. 

Is that it ? That's a big lot of money. 

Wyatt. 
Ay, ay, my friend ; not read it ? 'tis not written 
Half plain enough. Give me a piece of paper ! 

[ rFr/to " Thomas Wyatt'' large. 
There, any man can read that. \Sticks it i?i his cap, 

V 

Brett. 

But that's foolhardy. 

Wyatt. 
No ! boldness, which will give my followers boldness. 

Enter MAii with a prisoiter, 

Man. 

We found him, your worship, a plundering o' Bishop 
Winchester's house ; he says he's a poor gentleman. 

Wyatt. 
Gentleman, a thief ! Go hang him. Shall we make 
Those that we come to serve our sharpest foes t 

Brett. 
Sir Thomas — 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 95 

Wyatt. 
Hang him, I say. 

Brett. 
Wyatt, but now you promised me a boon. 

Wyatt. 

Ay, and I warrant this fine fellow's life. 

Brett. 
Ev'n so ; he was mv neidibor once in Kent. 
He's poor enough, has drunk and gambled out 
All that he had, and gentleman he was. 
We have been glad together j let him live. 

Wyatt. 

He has gambled for his life, and lost, he hangs. 

No, no, my word's my word. Take thy poor gentleman ! 

Gamble thyself at once out of my sight. 

Or I will dig thee with my dagger. Away ! 

Women and children ! 

Enter a Crowd of Women and Children. 

First Woman. 
O Sir Thomas, Sir Thomas, pray you go away, Sir 



96 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Thomas, or you'll make the White Tower a black 'un 
for us this blessed day. He'll be the death on us ; and 
you'll set the Divil's Tower a-spitting, and he'll smash 
all our bits o' things worse than Philip o' Spain. 

Second Woman. 

Don't ye now go to think that we be for Philip o* 
Spain. 

Third Woman. 

No, we know that ye be come to kill the Queen, and 
we'll pray for you all on our bended knees. But o' 
God's mercy don't ye kill the Queen here, Sir Thomas ; 
look ye, here's little Dickon, and little Robin, and Httle 
Jenny — though she's but a side-cousin — and all on 
our knees, we pray you to kill the Queen farther off, 
Sir Thomas. 

Wyatt. 

My friends, I have not come to kill the Queen 
Or here or there : I come to save you all, 
And I'll go farther off. 

Crowd. 

Thanks, Sir Thomas, we be beholden to you, and we'll 
pray for you on our bended knees till our lives' end. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. 97 

Wyatt. 
Be happy, I am your friend. 

To Kingston, forward ! 
\Exeunt, 



SCENE IV. — ROOM IN THE GATEHOUSE OF 
WESTMINSTER PALACE. 

Mary, Alice, Gardiner, Renard, Ladies. 

Alice. 
O madam, if Lord Pembroke should be false ? 

Mary. 

No, girl ; most brave and loyal, brave and loyal. 
His breaking with Northumberland broke Northumber- 
land. 
At the park gate he hovers with our guards. 
These Kentish ploughmen cannot break the guards. 

Enter Messenger. 

Messenger. 
Wyatt, your Grace, hath broken thro' the guards 
And gone to Ludgate. 



98 Qiceen Mary. [act ii, 

Gardiner. 

Madam, I much fear 
That all is lost; but we can save your Grace. 
The river still is free. I do beseech you, 
There yet is time, take boat and pass to Windsor. 

Mary. 

I pass to Windsor and I lose my crown. 

Gardiner. 
Pass, then, I pray your Highness, to the Tower. 

Mary. 
I shall but be their prisoner in the Tower. 

Cries withoict. 
The traitor ! treason ! Pembroke ! 

Ladies. 

Treason ! treason I 

Mary. 

Peace. 

False to Northumberland, is he false to me ? 

Bear witness, Renard, that I live and die 

The true and faithful bride of Philip — A sound 



SCENE IV.] Quee7i Mary, 99 

Of feet and voices thickening hither — blows — 
Hark, there is battle at the palace gates, 
And I will out upon the gallery. 

Ladies. 
No, no, your Grace ; see there the arrows flying. 

Mary. 

I am Harry's daughter, Tudor, and not fear. 

[ Goes out on the gallery. 
The guards are all driven in, skulk into corners 
Like rabbits to their holes. A gracious guard 
Truly j shame on them they have shut the gates ! 

Enter Sir Robert Southwell. 

Southwell. 

The porter, please your Grace, hath shut the gates 
On friend and foe. Your gentlemen-at-arms. 
If this be not your Grace's order, cry 
To have the gates set wide again, and they 
With their good battle-axes will do you right 
Against all traitors. 

]\La.ry. 

They are the flower of England ; set the gates wide. 

[Exit Southwell 



lOO Qiceen Mary. [act ii. 

Enter Courtenay. 

COURTENAY. 

All lost, all lost, all yielded ; a barge, a barge, 
The Queen must to the Tower. 

Mary. 

Whence come you, sir ? 

Courtenay. 

From Charing Cross ; the rebels broke us there, 
And I sped hither with what haste I might 
To save my royal cousin. 

Mary. 

Where is Pembroke ? 

Courtenay. 
I left him somewhere in the thick of it. 

Mary. 

Left him and fled ; and thou that wouldst be King, 
And hast nor heart nor honor. I myself 
Will down into the battle and there bide 
The upshot of my quarrel, or die with those 
That are no cowards and no Courtenays. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. loi 

COURTENAY. 

I do not love your Grace should call me coward. 

Enter afiofher Messenger. 

Messenger. 
Over, your Grace, all crush'd ; the brave Lord William 
Thrust him from Ludgate, and the traitor flying 
To Temple Bar, there by Sir Maurice Berkeley 
Was taken prisoner. 

Mary. 
To the Tower with him I 

Messenger. 

'Tis said he told Sir Maurice there was one 
Cognizant of this, and party thereunto> 
My Lord of Devon. 

Mary. 
To the Tower with him! 

CoURTENAY. 

la, the Tower, the Tower, always the Tower, 

1 shall grow into it — I shall be the Tower. 



I02 * Queen Mary. [act il 

Mary. 

Your Lordship may not have so long to wait. 
Remove him ! 

COURTENAY. 

La, to whistle out my life, 
And carve my coat upon the walls again ! 

\Exit CouRTENAY guarded 

Messenger. 

Also this Wyatt did confess the Princess 
Cognizant thereof, and party thereunto. 

Mary. 
What ? whom — whom did you say ? 

Messenger. 

Elizabeth, 
Your Royal sister, 

Mary. 

To the Tower with her ! 
My foes are at my feet and I am Queen. 

[Gardiner and her Ladies kneel to her. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary, 103 

Gardiner (risi?ig). 

There let them lie, your footstool ! (Aside) Can ] 

strike 
Elizabeth ? — not now and save the life 
Of Devon : if I save him, he and his 
Are bound to me — may strike hereafter. (Aioud,) 

Madam, 
What Wyatt said, or what they said he said, 
Cries of the moment and the street — 

Mary. 

He said it. 

Gardiner. 
Your courts of justice will determine that. 

Renard (advancing), 

I trust by this your Highness will allow 
Some spice of wisdom in my telling you. 
When last we talk'd, that Philip would not come 
Till Guildford Dudley and the Duke of Suffolk 
And Lady Jane had left us. 

Mary. 

They shall die. 



I04 Queen Mary. [act ii. 

Renard. 
And your so loving sister ? 

Mary. 

She shall die. 
My foes are at my feet, and Philip King. 

\Exeutt 



Queeft Mary. 105 



ACT III. 

SCENE L — THE CONDUIT IN GRACE- 
CHURCH, 

Painted with the Nine Worthies^ among them King Heitry 
VIII, holding a book, on it inscribed " Verbum Dei." 

Enter Sir Ralph Bagenhall and Sir Thomas 
Stafford. 

Bagenhall. 

A hundred here and hundreds hang'd in Kent. 

The tigress had unsheath'd her nails at last, 

And Renard and the Chancellor sharpened them. 

In every London street a gibbet stood. 

They are down to-day. Here by this bouse was one ; 

The traitor husband dangled at the door, 

And when the traitor wife came out for bread 

To still the petty treason therewithin, 

Her cap would brush his heels. 

Stafford. 

It is Sir Ralph, 



io6 Queen Mary, [act hi. 

And muttering to himself as heretofore. 
Sir, see you aught up yonder ? 

Bagenhall. 

I miss something. 
The tree that only bears dead fruit is gone. 

Stafford. 
What tree, sir ? 

Bagenhall. 
Well, the tree in Virgil, sir, 
That bears not its own apples. 

Stafford. 

What ! the gallows ? 

Bagenhall. 

Sir, this dead fruit was ripening overmuch. 
And had to be removed lest living Spain 
Should sicken at dead England. 

Stafford. 

Not so dead, 
But that a shock may rouse her. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 107 

Bagenhall. 

I believe 
Sir Thomas Stafford? 

Stafford. 
I am ill disguised. 

Bagenhall. 
Well, are you not in peril here ? 

Stafford. 

I think so. 
I came to feel the pulse of England, whether 
It beats hard at this marri3:ge. Did you see it ? 

Bagenhall. 

Stafford, I am a sad man and a serious. 

Far liefer had I in my country hall 

Been reading some old book, with mine old hound 

Couch'd at my hearth, and mine old flask of wine 

Beside me, than have seen it, yet I saw it. 

Stafford. 
Good, was it splendid t 

Bagenhall. 

Ay, if Dukes, and Earls, 



io8 Queen Mary. [act hi, 

And Counts, and sixty Spanish cavaliers, 
Some six or seven Bishops, diamonds, pearls, 
That royal commonplace too, cloth of gold. 
Could make it so. 

Stafford. 
And what was Mary's dress ? 

Bagenhall. 

Good faith, I was too sorry for the woman 
To mark the dress. She wore red shoes ! 

Stafford. 

Red shoes • 

Bagenhall. 

Scarlet, as if her feet were wash'd in blood. 
As if she had waded in it. 

Stafford. 

Were your eyes 
So bashful that you look'd no higher t 

Bagenhall. 

A diamond, 
And Philip's gift, as proof of Philip's love, 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 109 

Who hath not any for any, — tho' a true one. 
Blazed false upon her heart. 

Stafford. 

But this proud Prince — 

Bagenhall. 

Nay, he is King, you know, the King of Naples. 
The father ceded Naples, that the son 
Being a King, might wed a Queen — O he 
Flamed in brocade — white satin his trunk hose, 
Inwrought with silver, — on his neck a collar, 
Gold, thick with diamonds \ hanging down from this 
The Golden Fleece — and round his knee, misplaced, 
Our English Garter, studded with great emeralds, 
Rubies, I know not what. Have you had enough 
Of all this gear ? 

Stafford. 

Ay, since you hate the telling it. 
How looked the Queen ? 

Bagenhall. 

No fairer for her jewels. 
And I could see that as the new-made couple 
Came from the Minster, moving side by side 



no Queen Mary. [act iii. 

Beneath one canopy, ever and anon 
She cast on him a vassal smile of love, 
Which Philip with a glance of some distaste. 
Or so methought, returned. I may be wrong, sir. 
This marriage will not hold. 

Stafford. 

I think with you. 
The King of France will help to break it. 

Bagenhall, 

France ! 
We once had half of France, and hurl'd our battles 
Into the heart of Spain ; but England now 
Is but a ball chuck'd between France and Spain 
His in whose hand she drops ; Harry of Bolingbroke 
Had holpen Richard's tottering throne to stand, 
Could Harry have foreseen that all our nobles 
Would perish on the civil slaughter-field. 
And leave the people naked to the crown. 
And the crown naked to the people ; the crown 
Female, too ! Sir, no woman's regimen 
Can save us. We are fallen, and as I think, . 
Never to rise again. 

Stafford. 

You are too black-blooded. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 1 1 1 

I'd make a move myself to hinder that : 
I know some lusty fellows there in France. 

Bagenhall. 

You would but make us weaker, Thomas Stafford. 
Wyatt was a good soldier, yet he fail'd, 
And strengthen'd Philip. 

Stafford. 

Did not his last breath 
Clear Courtenay and the Princess from the charge 
Of being his co-rebels ? 

Bagenhall. 

Ay, but then 
What such a one as Wyatt says is nothing : 
We have no men among us. The new Lords 
Are quieted with their sop of Abbeylands, 
And ev'n before the Queen's face Gardiner buys them 
With Philip's gold. All greed, no faith, no courage ! 
Why, ev'n the haughty prince, Northumberland, 
The leader of our Reformation, knelt 
And blubber'd like a lad, and on the scaffold 
Recanted, and resold himself to Rome. 

Stafford. 
I swear you do your country wrong. Sir Ralph. 



1 1 2 Queen Mary. [act hi 

I know a set of exiles over there, 

Dare-devils, that would eat fire and spit it out 

At Philip's beard : they pillage Spain already. 

The French king winks at it. An hour will come 

When they will sweep her from the seas. No men ' 

Did not Lord Suffolk die like a true man ? 

Is not Lord William Howard a true man ? 

Yea, you yourself, altho' you are black-blooded : 

And I, by God, believe myself a man. 

Ay, even in the church there is a man — 

Cranmer. 

Fly, would he not, when all men bade him fly. 

And what a letter he wrote against the Pope ! 

There's a brave man, if any. 

Bagenhall. 

Ay ; if it hold. 

Crowd {coming on). 
God save their Graces ! 

Stafford. 

Bagenhall, I see 
The Tudor green and white. {Trumpets) They are 

coming now. 
And here's a crowd as thick as herring-shoals. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 113 

Bagenhall. 
Be limpets to this pillar, or we are torn 
Down the strong wave of brawlers. 

Crowd. 

God save their Graces. 

\Procession of Trumpeters^ yaveli7t-men^ etc, , the7\ 
Spanish and Flemish Nobles inter mi7igled, 

Stafford. 

Worth seeing, Bagenhall ! These black dog-Dons 
Garb themselves bravely. Who's the long-face there, 
Looks very Spain of very Spain ? 

Bagenhall. 

The Duke 

Of Alva, an iron soldier. 

Stafford. 

And the Dutchman, 
Now laughing at some jest ? 

Bagenhall 

William of Orange, 

William the Silent. 
8 



114 Queen Mary. [act iii. 

Stafford. 
Why do they call him so ? 

Bagenhall. 

He keeps, they say, some secret that may cost 
Philip his life. 

Stafford. 
But then he looks so merry. 

Bagenhall. 

I cannot tell you why they call him so. 

\The King and Queen pass^ attended by Peers 
of the Reabn^ Oficers of State ^ &^c, Cawion 
shot off. 

Crowd. 

Philip and Mar}^, Philip and Mary. 

Long live tlie King and Queen, Philip and Mary. 

Stafford. 
They smile as if content with one another. 

Bagenhall. 

A smile abroad is oft a scowl at home. 

[King and Queen pass on. Procession. 



SCENE I.] Qiceen Ma^y. 1 1 5 

First Citizen. 

I thought this Philip had been one of those black 
devils of Spain, but he hath a yellow beard. 

Second Citizen. 

Not red like Iscariot's. 

First Citizen. 

Like a carrot's, as thou sayst, and English carrot's 
better than Spanish licorice ; but I thought he was a 
beast. 

Third Citizen. 

Certain I had heard that every Spaniard carries a tail 
like a devil under his trunk hose. 

Tailor. 

Ay, but see what trunk-hoses ! Lord ! they be fine ; I 
never stitch'd none such. They make amends for the 
tails. 

Fourth Citizen. 

Tut ! every Spanish priest will tell you that all Eng- 
lish heretics have tails. 

Fifth Citizen. 
Death and the Devil — if he find I have one — 



ii6 Queen Mary. [act iii 

Fourth Citizen, 

Lo ! thou hast calPd them up ! here they come — 
a pale horse for Death and Gardiner for the Devil. . 

Enter Gardiner {turning back from the procession), 

Gardiner. 
Knave, wilt thou wear thy cap before the Queen ? 

Man. 

My Lord, I stand so squeezed among the crowd 
I cannot lift my hands unto my head. 

Gardiner. 

Knock off his cap there, some of you about him ! 
See there be others that can use their hands. 
Thou art one of Wyatt^s men ? 

Man. 

No, my Lord, no. 

Gardiner. 
Thy name, thou knave ? 

Man. 

I am nobody, my Lord, 



SCENE I.] Qiteen Mary. 1 1 7 

Gardiner {shouting), 
God's passion ! knave, thy name ? 

Man. 

I have ears to hear. 

Gardiner. 

Ay, rascal, if I leave thee ears to hear. 

Find out his name and bring it me {to Attendant^, 

Attendant. 

Ay, my Lord. 

Gardiner. 

Knave, thou shalt lose thine ears and find thy tongue, 
And shalt be thankful if I leave thee that. 

\Coming before the Conduit, 
The conduit painted — the nine worthies — ay ! 
But then what's here ? King Harr}^ with a scroll. 
Ha — Verbum Dei — verbum — word of God ! 
God's passion ! do you know the knave that painted it ? 

Attendant. 
I do, my Lord. 



1 1 8 Queen Majy. [act hi, 

Gardiner. 

Tell him to paint it out, 
And put some fresh device in lieu of it — 
A pair of gloves, a pair of gloves, sir; ha? 
There is no heresy there. 



Attendant. 

I will, my Lord. 
The man shall paint a pair of gloves. I am sure 
(Knowing the man) he wrought it ignorantly, 
And not from any malice. 

Gardiner. 

Word of God 
In English ! over this the brainless loons 
That cannot spell Esaias from St. Paul, 
Make themselves drunk and mad, fly out and flare 
Into rebellions. I'll have their Bibles burnt. 
The Bible is the priest's. Ay ! fellow, what ! 
Stand staring at me ! shout, you gaping rogue. 

Man. 
I have, my Lord, shouted till I am hoarse. 



SCENE I.] Qiceen Mary. 119 

Gardiner. 
What hast thou shouted, knave ? 

Man. 

Long live Queen !Mary. 

Gardiner. 

Knave, there be two. There be both King and Queen, 
Pliilip and Mar}% Shout. 

Man. 

Nay, but, my Lord, 
The Queen comes first, Mary and PhiHp. 

Gardiner. 

Shout, then, 
Marj^ and Philip. 

Man. 

Mary and Philip I 

Gardiner. 

Now, 
Thou hast shouted for thy pleasure, shout for mine ! 
Philip and Mary ! 



I20 Qiceen Mary. [act hi, 



Man. 
Must it be so, my Lord ? 

Gardiner. 



Ay, knave. 



Man. 
Philip and Mary. 

Gardiner. 

I distrust thee. 
Thine is a half voice and a lean assent. 
What is thy name ? 

Man. 
Sanders. 

Gardiner. 

What else ? 

Man. 

Zerubbabel. 

Gardiner. 
Where dost thou live ? 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 121 

Man. 
In Cornhill. 

Gardiner. 

Where, knave, where ? 

Man. 
Sign of the Talbot. 

Gardiner. 

Come to me to-morrow. — 
Rascal ! — this land is like a hill of fire, 
One crater opens when another shuts. 
But so I get the laws against the heretic. 
Spite of Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, 
And others of our Parliament, revived, 
I will show fire on my side — stake and fire — 
Sharp work and short. The knaves are easily cow'd. 
Follow their Majesties. 

[Exit The croivd followiiig. 

Bagenhall. 

As proud as Becket. 

Stafford. 
Vou would not have him murder'd as Becket was ? 



122 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Bagenhall. 
No — murder fathers murder : but I say 
There is no man — there was one woman with us-^- 
It was a sin to love her married, dead 
I cannot choose but love her. 

Stafford. 

Lady Jane ? 

Crowd {goi?tg off). 
Cod save their Graces. 

Stafford. 

Did you see her die ? 

Bagenhall. 

No, no ; her innocent blood had blinded me. 
You call me too black-blooded — true enough 
Her dark dead blood is in my heart with mine. 
If ever I cry out against the Pope 
Her dark dead blood that ever moves with mine 
Will stir the living tongue and make the cry. 

Stafford. 
Yet doubtless you can tell me how she died ? 



SCENE I.] Qtceen Mary. 123 

Bagenhall. 

Seventeen — and knew eight languages — in music 

Peerless — her needle perfect, and her learning 

Beyond the churchmen ; yet so meek, so modest, 

So wife-like humble to the trivial boy 

Mismatched with her for policy ! I have heard 

She would not take a last farewell of him. 

She fear'd it might unman him for his end. 

She could not be unmanned — no, nor outwoman'd — 

Seventeen — a rose of grace ! 

Girl never breathed to rival such a rose ; 

Rose never blew that equall'd such a bud. 

Stafford. 
Pray you go on. 

Bagenhall. 
She came upon the scaffold, 
And said she was condemn'd to die for treason ; 
She had but followed the device of those 
Her nearest kin : she thought they knew the la\vs. 
But for herself, she knew but little law. 
And nothing of the titles to the crow^n ; 
She had no desire for that, and wrung her hands. 
And trusted God would save her thro' the blood 
Of Jesus Christ alone. 



124 Queen Mary. [act :il 

Stafford. 

Pray you go on. 



Bagenhall. 

Then knelt and said the Miserere Mei — 
But all in English, mark you ; rose again, 
And, when the headsman prayed to be forgiven, 
Said, " You will give me my true crown at last, 
But do it quickly ; " then all wept but she. 
Who changed not color when she saw the block, 
But ask'd him, childlike : " Will you take it off 
Before I lay me down ? '* " No, madam," he said, 
Gasping ; and when her innocent eyes were bound, 
She, with her poor blind hands feeling — " where is it ? 
Where is it ? " — You must fancy that w^hich followed, 
If you have heart to do it ! 

Crowd {in the distance), 

God save their Graces ! 

Stafford. 

Their Graces, our disgraces ! God confound them ! 
Why, she's grown bloodier ! when I last was here, 
This was against her conscience — would be murder ! 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 125 

Bagenhall. 

The "Thou shalt do no murder/^ which God's hand 
Wrote on her conscience, ^Nlar}- rubb'd out pale — 
She could not make it white — and over that, 
Traced in the blackest text of Hell — " Thou shalt ! '' 
And sign'd it — Mary ! 

Stafford. 

Philip and the Pope 
Must have sign'd too. I hear this Legate's coming 
To bring us absolution from the Pope. 
The Lords and Commons will bow down before him — 
You are of the house ? what will you do, Sir Ralph ? 

Bagenhall. 
And why should I be bolder than the rest, 
Or hon ester than all ? 

Stafford. 

But, sir, if I — 
And over sea they say this state of yours 
Hath no more mortise than a tower of cards j 
And tliat a puii would do it — then if I 
And others made that move I touched upon, 



126 Queen Mary. [act :il 

Back'd by the power of France, and landing here, 
Came with a sudden splendor, shout, and show, 
And dazzled men and deafen'd by some bright 
Loud venture, and the people so unquiet — 
And I the race of murder'd Buckingham — 
Not for myself, but for the kingdom — Sir, 
I trust that you would fight along .with us. 

Bagenhall. 

No ; you would fling your lives into the gulf, 

Stafford. 

But if this Philip, as he's like to do, 

Left Mary a wife-widow here alone, 

Set up a viceroy, sent his myriads hither 

To seize upon the forts and fleet, and make us 

A Spanish province ; would you not fight then ? 

Bagenhall. 
I think I should fight then. 

Stafford. 

I am sure of it. 
Hist ! there's the face coming on here of one 
Who knows me. I must leave you. Fare you well, 
Vou'll hear of me again. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 127 

Bagenhall. 

Upon the scaffold. [Exetmt, 



SCENE 11.-^ ROOM IN WHITEHALL PALACE 

Mary. Enter Philip and Cardinal Pole. 

Pole. 
Ave Maria, gratia plena, Benedicta tu in mulieribus. 

Mary. 

Loyal and royal cousin, humblest thanks. 
Had you a pleasant voyage up the river ? 

Pole. 

We had your royal barge, and that same chair, 
Or rather throne of purple, on the deck. 
Our silver cross sparkled before the prow. 
The ripples twinkled at their diamond-dance, 
The boats that follow'd, were as glowing-gay 
As regal gardens ; and your flocks of swans. 
As fair and white as angels ; and your shores 



128 Queen Mary. [act i:i. 

Wore in mine eyes the green of Paradise. 

My foreign friends, who dream'd us blanketed 

In ever-closing fog, were much amazed 

To find as fair a sun as might have flash'd 

Upor their Lake of Garda, fire the Thames ; 

Our voyage by sea was all but miracle ; 

And here the river flowing from the sea, 

Not toward it (for they thought not of our tides), 

Seem'd as a happy miracle to make glide — 

In quiet — home your banish'd countryman. 

IMary. 
We heard that you were sick in Flanders, cousin. 

Pole. 
A dizziness. 

Mary. 
And how came you round again ? 

Pole. 
The scarlet thread of Rahab saved her life ; 
And mine, a little letting of the blood. 

Mary. 

Well? now? 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 129 

Pole. 

Ay, cousin, as the heathen giant 
Had but to touch the ground, his force returned — 
Thus, after twenty years of banishment, 
Feeling my native land beneath my foot, 
I said thereto : " Ah, native land of mine. 
Thou art much beholden to this foot of mine. 
That hastes with full commission from the Pope 
To absolve thee from thy guilt of heresy. 
Thou hast disgraced me and attainted me. 
And marked me ev'n as Cain, and I return 
As Peter, but to bless thee : make me well.'' 
Methinks the good land heard me, for to-day 
My heart beats twenty, when I see you, cousin. 
Ah, gentle cousin, since your Herod's death, 
How oft hath Peter knock'd at Mary's gate ! 
And Mary would have risen and let him' in, 
But, Mary, there were those within the house 
Who would not have it. 

. Mary. 

True, good cousin Pole ; 
And there were also those without the house 
Who would not have it. 

Pole. 
I believe so, cousin. 



1 30 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

State-policy and church-policy are conjoint, 
But Janus-faces looking diverse ways. 
I fear the Emperor much misvalued me. 
But all is well ; 'twas ev'n the will of God, 
Who, waiting till the time had ripen'd, now, 
Makes me his mouth of holy greeting. " Hail, 
Daughter of God, and saver of the faith. 
Sit benedictus fructus ventris tui ! " 

Mary. 
Ah, heaven 1 

Pole. 
Unwell, your grace ? 

Mary. 

No, cousin, happy — 
Happy to see you ; never yet so happy 
Since I was crowned. 

Pole. 

Sweet cousin, you forget 
That long low minster where you gave your hand 
To this great Catholic King. 

Philip. 

Well saidj Lord Legate. 



SCENE II.] Qtceen Mary, 131 

Mary. 

Nay, not well said ; I thought of you, my liege, 
Ev'n as I spoke. 

Philip. 

Av, !Madam : mv Lord Pao:et 
Waits to present our Council to the Legate. 
Sit down here, all j Madam, between us you. 

Pole. 

Lo; now^ you are enclosed with boards of cedar, 
Our little sister of the Song of Songs ! 
You are doubly fenced and shielded sitting here 
Between the t^vo most high-set thrones on earth, 
The Emperor's highness happily symbolFd by 
The King your husband, the Pope's Holiness 
By mine own self. 

Mary. 

True, cousin, I am happy. 
When will you that we summon both our houses 
To take this absolution from your lips, 
cVnd be regather'd to the Papal fold ? 

Pole. 

In Britain's calendar the brightest day 



132 Queen Mary, [act hi. 

Beheld our rough forefathers break their Gods, 
And clasp the faith in Christ ; but after that 
Might not St. Andrew's be her happiest day ? 

Mary. 

Then these shall meet upon St. Andrew's day. 
Enter Paget, who presents the Council. Dumb show, 

Pole. 

I am an old man wearied with my journey, 
Ev'n with my joy. Permit me to withdraw. 
To Lambeth? 

Philip. 

Ay, Lambeth has ousted Cranmer. 
It was not meet the heretic swine should live 
In Lambeth. 

Mary. 
There or anywhere, or at all. 

Philip. 
We have had it swept and garnish'd after him. 

Pole. 
Not for the seven devils to enter in ? 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 133 

Phiilip. 
No, for we trust they parted in the swine. 

Pole. 

True, and I am the Angel of the Pope. 
Farewell, your Graces. 

Philip. 

Nay, not here — to me ; 
I will go with you to the waterside. 

Pole. 
Not be my Charon to the counter side ? 

Philip. 
No, my Lord Legate, the Lord Chancellor goes. 

Pole. 

And unto no dead world ; but Lambetli palace, 
Henceforth a centre of the living faith. 

\Exeunt Philip, Pole, Paget, ^c. 

Manet Mary. 

He hath awaked ! he hath awaked ! 

He stirs within the darkness ! 

Oh, Philip, husband ! now thy love to mine 



134 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Will cling more close, and those bleak manners thaw, 

That make me shamed and tongue-tied in my love. 

The second Prince of Peace — 

The great unborn defender of the Faith, 

Who will avenge me of mine enemies — 

He comes, and my star rises. 

The stormy Wyatts and Northumberlands, 

The proud ambitions of Elizabeth, 

And all her fieriest partisans — are pale 

Before my star ! 

The light of this new learning wanes and dies : 

The ghosts of Luther and Zuinglius fade 

Into the deathless hell which is their doom 

Before my star ! 

His sceptre shall go forth from Ind to Ind ! 

His sword shall hew the heretic peoples down ! 

His faith shall clothe the world that will be his. 

Like universal air and sunshine ! Open, 

Ye everlasting gates ! The King is here ! — 

My star, my son ! 

Enter Philip, Duke of Alva, &c. 
Oh, Philip, come with me ; 
Good news have I to tell you, news to make 
Both of us happy — ay the Kingdom too. 
Nay come with me — one moment ! 



SCENE II.] Qiteen Mary. 135 

Philip {to Alva). 

More than that : 
There was one here of Lite — William the Silent 
They call him — he is free enough in talk, 
But tells me nothing. You will be, we trust, 
Some time the viceroy of those provinces — 
He must deserve his surname better. 



Alva. 



Ay, sir; 



Inherit the Great Silence. 



Philip. 

True ; the provinces 
Are hard to rule and must be hardly ruled ; 
Most fruitful, yet, indeed, an empty rind, 
All hollow'd out with stinging heresies ; 
And for their heresies, Alva, they will fight : 
You must break them or they break you. 

Alva {proudly). 

The first. 

Philip. 
Good ! 
Well, Madam, this new happiness of mine. \Exeunt, 



136 Queen Mary. [act iil 

Enter Three Pages. 

First Page. 

News, mates ! a miracle, a miracle ! ne\vs ! 
The bells must ring ; Te Deums must be sung ; 
The Queen hath felt the motion of her babe ! 

Second Page. 
Ay ; but see here ! 

First Page. 
See what ? 

Second Page. 

This paper, Dickon. 
I found it fluttering at the palace gates : — 
" The Queen of England is delivered of a dead dog ! 

Third Page. 
These are the things that madden her. Fie upon it. 

First Page. 

Ay ; but I hear she hath a dropsy, lad 
Or a high-dropsy, as the doctors call it 



SCENE II.] Quee7i Mary. ' 137 

Third Page. 

Fie on her dropsy, so she have a dropsy ! 
I know that she was ever sweet to me. 

First Page. 
For thou and thine are Roman to the core. 

Third Page. 
So tliou and tliine must be. Take heed ! 

First Page. 

Not I, 
And whether this flash of news be false or true, 
So the wine run, and there be revelr}^, 
Content am I. Let all the steeples clash, 
Till the sun dance, as upon Easter Day. 

\Exeunt 



i38 Queen Mary. [act in. 



SCENE III. — GREAT HALL IN WHITEHALL. 

\At the far end a dais. On this three chairs^ t7uo under 
one canopy for Mary ^;/^ Philip, another on the right 
of these for Pole. Under the dais on Pole's side^ 
ranged along the wall^ sit all the Spiritual Feers^ 
and along the wall opposite^ all the Tcmp07'aL The 
Commons on cross benches in front ^ a line of approach 
to the dais between them. In the foreground ^\^ Ralph 
Bagenhall and other Members of the Commons.] 

First jMember. 

St. Andrew's day ; sit close, sit close, we are friends. 
Is reconciled the word ? the Pope again ? 
It must be thus ; and yet, cocksbody ! how strange 
That Gardiner, once so one with all of us 
Against this foreign marriage, should have yielded 
So utterly ! — strange ! but stranger still that he, 
So fierce against the Headship of the Pope, 
Should play the second actor in this pageant 
That brings him in ; such a chameleon he I 

Second Member. 

This Gardiner turn'd Iiis coat in Henry's time ; 
The serpent that hath slough'd will slough again. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 139 

Third ^Member. 
Tut, then we all are serpents. 

Second Member. 

Speak for yourself. 

Third Member. 

hy^ and for Gardiner ! being English citizen, 

How should he bear a bridegroom out of Spain ? 

The Queen would have him ! being English churchman, 

How should he bear the headship of the Pope 1 

The Queen would have it ! Statesmen that are wise 

Shape a necessit}^, as the sculptor clay, 

To their own model. 

Second Member. 

Statesmen that are wise 
Take truth herself for model, what say you ? 

\To Sir Ralph Bagenhall, 



Bagenhall. 



We talk and talk. 



First Member. 
Ay, and what use to talk ? 
Philip's no sudden dien — the Queen's husband, 



140 Queen Mary. [act iil 

He's here, and king, or will be, — yet cocksbody ! 

So hated here ! I watch'd a hive of late ; 

My seven-years' friend was with me, my young boy ; 

Out crept a wasp, with half the swarm behind. 

" Philip/' says he. I had to cuff the rogue 

Yox infant treason. 

Third Member. 

But they say that bees, 
If any creeping life invade their hive 
Too gross to be thrust out, will build him round, 
And bind him in from harming of their combs. 
And Philip by these articles is bound 
From stirring hand or foot to wrong the realm. 

Second Member. 

By bonds of beeswax, like your creeping thing ; 
But your wise bees had stung him first to death. 

Third Member. 

Hush, hush ! 

You wrong the Chancellor : the clauses added 
To that same treaty which the emperor sent us 
Were mainly Gardiner's : that no foreigner 
Hold ofhce in the household, fleet, forts, army ; 
That if the Queen should die without a child, 



SCENE III.] Qiteen Mary. 141 

The bond between the kingdoms be dissolved ; 
That Philip should not mix us any way 
With his French wars — 

Second Member. 

Ay, ay, but what security. 
Good sir, for this, if Pliilip — 

Third Member. 

Peace — the Queen, 
Philip, and Pole. 

\All rise, and stand. 

Enter Mary, Philip, and Pole. 
[Gardiner conducts them to the three chairs of 
state. Philip sits on the Queen's left, Pole 
on her right. 

Gardiner, 
Our short-lived sun, before his winter plunge. 
Laughs at the last red leaf, and Andrew's Day. 

Mary. 
Should not this day be held in after years 
More solemn than of old 1 



142 Queen Mary. [act iil 

Philip. 

Madam, my wish 
Echoes your Majesty's. 

Pole. 
It shall be so. 

Gardiner, 

Mine echoes both your Graces' ; {aside) but the Pope — 
Can we not have the Catholic church as well 
Without as with the Italian? if we cannot, 
Why then the Pope. 

My lords of the upper house, 
And ye, my masters, of the lower house, 
Do ye stand fast by that which ye resolved ? 

Voices. 
We do. 

Gardiner. 

And be you all one mind to supplicate 

The Legate here for pardon, and acknowledge 

The primacy of the Pope ? 

Voices. 

We are all one mind. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 143 

Gardiner. 

Then must I play the vassal to this Pole. \Aside, 

\He draws a paper fro7n imder his robes and 

presents it to the King and Queen, ivho look 

through it and ^durn it to him ; then ascciids 

a tribime, and reads. 

We, the Lords Spiritual and Temporal, 

And Commons here in Parliament assembled, 

Presenting the whole body of this realm 

Of England, and dominions of the same, 

Do make most humble suit unto your Majesties, 

In our own name and that of all the state, 

That by your gracious means and intercession 

Our supplication be exhibited 

To the Lord Cardinal Pole, sent here as Legate 

From our most holy father Julius, Pope, 

And from the apostolic see of Rome ; 

And do declare our penitence and grief 

For our long schism and disobedience, 

Either in making laws and ordinances 

Against the Holy Father's primacy, 

Or else by doing or by speaking aught 

Which might impugn or prejudice the same j 

By this our supplication promising. 

As well for our own selves as all the realm, 



144 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

That now we be and ever shall be quick, 
Under and with your Majesties' authorities, 
To do to the utmost all that in us lies 
Towards the abrogation and repeal 
Of all such laws and ordinances made ; 
Whereon we humbly pray your Majesties, 
As persons undefiled with our offence. 
So to set forth this humble suit of ours 
That we the rather by your intercession 
May from the apostolic see obtain, 
Thro' this most reverend Father, absolution. 
And full release from danger of all censures 
Of Holy Church that we be fall'n into. 
So that we may, as children penitent. 
Be once again received into the bosom 
And unity of Universal Church ; 
And that this noble realm thro' after years 
May in this unity and obedience 
Unto the holy see and reigning Pope 
Serve God and both your Majesties. 

Voices. 

Amen. \All sit 

[He again presents the petition to the Kin(^. 
and Queen, who hand it reverentially to 
Pole. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 145 

Pole (sitting). 

This is the loveliest day that ever smiled 

On England. All her breath should, incense like, 

Rise to the heavens in grateful praise of Him 

Who now recalls her to his ancient fold. 

Lo ! once again God to this realm hath given 

A token of His more especial Grace ; 

For as this people were the first of all 

The islands call'd into the dawning church 

Out of the dead, deep night of heathendom, 

So now are these the first whom God hath given 

Grace to repent and sorrow for their schism ; 

And if your penitence be not mockery, 

Oh how the blessed angels who rejoice 

Over one saved do triumph at this hour 

In the reborn salvation of a land 

So noble. \A pause. 

For ourselves we do protest 

That our commission is to heal, not harm ; 

We come not to condemn, but reconcile ; 

We come not to compel, but call again ; 

We come not to destroy, but edify ; 

Nor yet to question things already done ; 

These are forgiven — matters of the past — 

And range with jetsam and with offal thrown 

Into the blind sea of forgetfulness. \A pause. 

10 



146 Queen Mary. [act 111. 

Ye have reversed the attainder laid on us 

By him who sack'd the house of God ; and we, 

Amplier than any field on our poor earth 

Can render thanks in fruit for being sown, 

Do here and now repay you sixty-fold, 

A hundred, yea, a thousand thousand-fold. 

With heaven for earth. 

\Rising and stretching forth his hands. All kneel 

but Sir Ralph Bagenhall, who rises and 

re?nai?ts standing. 

The Lord who hath redeem'd us 
With his own blood, and wash'd us from our sins. 
To purchase for Himself a stainless bride ; 
He, whom the Father hath appointed Head 
Of all his church, He by His mercy absolve you ! 

\/i pause. 
And we by that authority Apostolic 
Given unto us, his Legate, by the Pope, 
Our Lord and Holy Father, Julius, 
God's Vicar and Vicegerent upon earth. 
Do here absolve you and deliver you 
And every one of you, and all the realm 
And its dominions from all heresy. 
All schism, and from all and every censure, 
Judgment, and pain accruing thereupon ; 
And also we restore you to the bosom 



SCENE III.] Qiteen Mary. 147 

And unity of Universal Church. [ 7//;-;^ /;^^/^ Gardiner. 
Our letters of commission will declare this plainlier. 

[Queen heard sobbing. Cries of Amen ! Amen ! 

Some of the members embrace 07ie another. 

All but Sir Ralph Bagenhall pass out 

into the neighbori7ig chapel^ whence is heard 

the Te Deum, 

Bagenhall. 

We strove against the papacy from the first, 

In William's time, in our first Edward's time, 

And in my master Henry's time ; but now. 

The unity of Universal Church, 

Mary would have it ; and this Gardiner follows ; 

The unity of Universal Hell, 

Philip would have it ; and this Gardiner follows ! 

A Parliament of imitative apes ! 

Sheep at the gap which Gardiner takes, who not 

Believes the Pope, nor any of them believe — 

These spaniel-Spaniard English of the time, 

Who rub their fawning noses in the dust. 

For that is Philip's gold-dust, and adore 

This Vicar of their Vicar. Would I had been 

Born Spaniard ! I had held my head up then. 

I am ashamed that I am Bagenhall, 

English. 



148 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Enter Officer. 

Officer. 
Sir Ralph Bagenhall. 

Bagenhall. 

What of that ? 

Officer. 

You were the one sole man in either house 
Who stood upright when both the houses fell. 

Bagenhall. 
The houses fell ! 

Officer. 

I mean the houses knelt 
Before the Legate. 

Bagenhall. 

Do not scrimp your phrase, 
But stretch it wider ; say when England fell. 

Officer. 
1 say you were the one sole man who stood. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 149 

Bagenhall. 
I am the one sole man in either house, 
Perchance in England, loves her like a -^ion. 

Officer. 
A^ell, you one man, because you stood upright, 
tier Grace the Queen commands you to the Tower. 

Bagenhall. 
As traitor, or as heretic, or for what ? 

Officer. 
If any man in any way w^ould be 
The one man he shall be so to his cost 

Bagenhall. 
What ! will she have my head t 

Officer. 

A round fine likelier. 
Your pardon. {Calling to Attendant. 

By the river to the Tower. 

\Exeunt 



150 Quee7i Mary. [act hi. 



SCENE IV. — WHITEHALL. A ROOM IN THE 

PALACE. 

Mary, Gardiner, Pole, Paget, Bonner, &c. 

Mary. 

The king and I, my Lords, now that all traitors 
Against our royal state have lost the heads 
Wherewith they plotted in their treasonous malice, 
Have talk'd together, and are well agreed 
That those old statutes touching Lollardism 
To bring the heretic to the stake, should be 
No longer a dead letter, but requicken'd. 

One of the Council. 

Why, what hath fluster'd Gardiner ? how he rubs 
His forelock. 

Paget. 
I have changed a word with him 
In coming, and may change a word again. 

Gardiner. 
Madam, your Highness is our sun, the King 
And you together our two suns in one ; 
And so the beams of both may shine upon us. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary, 151 

The faith that seemed to droop will feel your light, 

Lift head, and flourish ; yet not light alone, 

There must be heat — there must be heat enough 

To scorch and wither heresy to the root. 

For what saith Christ ? *' Compel them to come in." 

And what saith Paul ? " I would they were cut off 

That trouble you." Let the dead letter live ! 

Trace it in fire, that all the louts to whom 

Their A B C is darkness, clowns and grooms 

May read it ! so you quash rebellion too. 

For heretic and traitor are all one : 

Two vipers of one breed — an amphisboena, 

Each end a sting : Let the dead letter burn ! 

Paget. 
Yet there be some disloyal Catholics, 
And many heretics loyal ; heretic throats 
Cried no God-bless-her to the Lady Jane, 
But shouted in Queen Mary. So there be 
Some traitor-heretic, there is axe and cord. 
To take che lives of others that are loyal. 
And by the churchman's pitiless doom of fire 
Were but a thankless policy in the crown, 
Ay, and against itself ; for there are many. 

Mary. 
If we could burn out heresy, my Lord Paget, 



152 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

We reck not tho' we lost this crown of England — 
Ay ! tho' it were ten Englands ! 

Gardiner. 

Right, your Grace. 
Paget, you are all for this poor life of ours, 
And care but little for the life to be. 

Paget. 

I have some time, for curiousness, my Lord, 
Watch'd children playing at their life to be, 
And cruel at it, killing helpless flies ; 
Such is our time — all times for aught I know. 

Gardiner. 

We kill the heretics that sting the soul — 
They, with right reason, flies that prick the flesh, 

Paget. 

They had not reached right reason ; little children ! 
They kill'd but for their pleasure and the power 
They felt in killing. 

Gardiner. 
A spice of Satan, ha ! 
■ Why, good ! what then ? granted ! — we are fallen crea- 
tures ; 
Look to your Bible, Paget ! we are fallen. 



SCENE IV.] Qiteen Mary. 153 

Paget. 

I am but of the laity, my Lord Bishop, 
And may not read your Bible, yet I found 
One day, a wholesome scripture, '^Little children, 
Love one another." 

Gardiner. 

Did you find a scripture, 
" I come not to bring peace but a sword " ? The sword 
Is in her Grace's hand to smite with. Paget, 
You stand up here to fight for heresy. 
You are more than guess'd at as a heretic. 
And on the steep-up track of the true faith 
Your lapses are far seen. 

Paget. 

The faultless Gardiner ! 

Mary. 

You brawl beyond the question ; speak. Lord Legate. 

Pole. 

Indeed, I cannot follow with your Grace, 
Rather would say — the shepherd doth not kill 
The sheep that wander from his flock, but sends 
His careful dog to bring them to the fold. 



154 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Look to the Netherlands, wherein have been 
Such holocausts of heresy ! to what end ? 
For yet the faith is not established there. 

Gardiner. 
The end's not come. 

Pole. 

No — nor this way will come, 
Seeing there lie two ways to every end, 
A better and a worse — the worse is here 
To persecute, because to persecute 
Makes a faith hated, and is furthermore 
No perfect witness of a perfect faith 
In him who persecutes : when men are tost 
On tides of strange opinion, and not sure 
Of their own selves, they are wroth with their own selves, 
And thence with otliers ; then, who lights the fagot ? 
Not the full faith, no, but the lurking doubt. 
Old Rome, that first made martyrs in the Church, 
Trembled for her own gods, for these were trembling — 
But when did our Rome tremble ? 

Paget. 

Did she not 
In Henry's time and Edward's ? 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. 155 

Pole. 

What, my Lord 1 
The Church on Peter's rock ? never ! I have seen 
A pine in Italy that cast its shadow 
Athwart a cataract ; firm stood the pine — 
The cataract shook the shadow. To my mind, 
The cataract typed the headlong plunge and fall 
Of heresy to the pit : the pine was Rome. 
You see, my Lords, 

It was the shadow of the Church that trembled ; 
Your church was but the shadow of a church, 
Wanting the triple mitre. 

Gardiner {muttering). 

Here be tropes. 

Pole. 
And tropes are good to clothe a naked truth, 
And make it look more seemly. 

Gardiner. 

Tropes again ! 

Pole. 

You are hard to please. Then without tropes, my Lord. 

An overmuch severeness, I repeat. 

When faith is wavering makes the waverer pass 



156 Queen Mary. [act hi 

Into more settled hatred of the doctrines 

Of those who rule, which hatred by and by 

Involves the ruler (thus there springs to light 

That Centaur of a monstrous Commonweal, 

The traitor-heretic) then tho' some may quail, 

Yet others are that dare the stake and fire, 

And their strong torment bravely borne, begets 

An admiration and an indignation, 

And hot desire to imitate ; so the plague 

Of schism spreads ; were there but three or four 

Of these misleaders, yet I would not say 

Burn ! and we cannot burn whole towns ; they are many 

As my Lord Paget says. 

Gardiner. 

Yet my Lord Cardinal — 

Pole. 

I am your Legate ; please you let me finish. 
Methinks that under our Queen's regimen 
We might go softlier than with crimson rowel 
And streaming lash. When Herod-Henry first 
Began to batter at your English Church, 
This was the cause, and hence the judgment on her. 
She seethed with such adulteries, and the lives 
Of many among your churchmen were so foul 



SCENE IV. J Queen Mary. 157 

That heaven wept and earth blush'd. I would advise 
That we should thoroughly cleanse the Church within 
Before these bitter statutes be requicken'd. 
So after that when she once more is seen 
White as the light, the spotless bride of Christ, 
Like Christ himself on Tabor, possibly 
The Lutheran may be won to her again ; 
Till when, my Lords, I counsel tolerance. 

Gardiner. 

What; if a mad dog bit your hand, my Lord, 

Would you not chop the bitten finger off, 

Lest your whole body should madden with the poison } 

I would not, were I Queen, tolerate the heretic, 

No, not an hour. The ruler of a land 

Is bounden by his power and place to see 

His people be not poison'd.- Tolerate them ! 

Why ? do they tolerate you ? Nay, many of them 

Would burn — have burnt each other ; call they not 

The one true faith, a loathsome idol-worship 1 

Beware, Lord Legate, of a heavier crime 

Than heresy is itself ; beware I say. 

Lest men accuse you of indifference 

To all faiths, all religion ; for you know 

Right well that you yourself have been supposed 

Tainted with Luther anism in Italy. 



158 Queen Mary. [act hi 

Pole {angered). 
But you, my Lord, beyond all supposition, 
In clear and open day were congruent 
With that vile Cranmer in the accursed lie 
Of good Queen Catherine's divorce — the spring 
Of all those evils that have flow'd upon us ; 
For you yourself have truckled to the tyrant, 
And done your best to bastardize our Queen, 
For which God's righteous judgment fell upon you 
In your five years of imprisonment, my Lord, 
Under young Edward. Who so bolstered up 
The gross King's headship of the Church, or more 
Denied the Holy Father ! 

Gardiner. 

Ha! what! eh? 
But you, my Lord, a polish'd gentleman, 
A bookman, flying from the heat and tussle, 
You lived among your vines and oranges. 
In your soft Italy yonder ! You were sent for, 
You were appeal'd to, but you still preferr'd 
Your learned leisure. As for what I did 
I suffer'd and repented. You, Lord Legate 
And Cardinal-Deacon, have not now to learn 
That ev'n St. Peter in his time of fear 
Denied his Master, ay, and thrice, my Lord. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. 159 

Pole. 
But not for five and twenty years, my Lord. 

Gardiner. 
Ha ! good ! it seems then I was summoned hither 
]]ut to be mock'd and baited. Speak, friend Bonner, 
And tell this learned Legate he lacks zeal. 
The Church's evil is not as the King's, 
Cannot be heal'd by stroking. The mad bite 
Must have the cautery — tell him — and at once. 
What wouldst thou do hadst thou his power, thou 
That laj^est so long in heretic bonds with me. 
Wouldst thou not burn and blast them root and branch ? 

Bonner. 
Ay, after you, my Lord. 

Gardiner. 
Nay, God's passion, before me ! speak. 

Bonner. 

I am or. fire until I see them flame. 

Gardiner. 
Ay, the psalm-singing weavers, cobblers, scum — 



i6o Queen Mary. [act hi 

But this most noble prince Plantagenet, 

* 

Our good Queen's cousin — dallying over seas 
Even when his brother's, nay, his noble mother's, 
Head fell — 

Pole. 

Peace, mad man ! 
Thou stirrest up a grief thou canst not fathom. 
Thou Christian Bishop, thou Lord Chancellor 
Of England ! no more rein upon thine anger 
Than any child ! Thou mak'st me much ashamed 
That I was for a moment wroth at thee, 

Mary. 
I come for counsel and ye give me feuds. 
Like dogs that set to watch their master's gate, 
Fall, when the thief is ev'n within the walls, 
To worrying one another. My Lord Chancellor, 
You have an old trick of offending us ; 
And but that you are art and part with us 
In purging heresy, well we might, for this 
Your violence and much roughness to the Legate, 
Have shut you from our counsels. Cousin Pole, 
You are fresh from brighter lands. Retire with me. 
His highness and myself (so you allow us) 
Will let you learn in peace and privacy 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary. i6l 

What power this cooler sun of England hath 

In breeding Godless vermin. And pray Heaven 

That you may see according to our sight. 

Come, cousin. \Exeu7it Queen and Pole, 6^^, 

Gardiner. • 

Pole has the Plantagenet face, 
But not the force made them our mightiest kings. 
Fine eyes — but melancholy, irresolute — 
A fine beard, Bonner, a very full fine beard. 
But a weak mouth, an indeterminate — ha? 

Bonner. 
Well, a weak mouth, perchance. 

Gardiner. 

And not like thine 
To gorge a heretic whole, roasted or raw. 

Bonner. 

rd do my best, my Lord ; but yet the Legate 
Is here as Pope and Master of the Church, 
And if he go not wath you — 

Gardiner. 

Tut, Master Bishop, 
Our basliful Legate, saw'st not how he flushed t 



x62 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Touch him upon his old heretical talk, 
He'll burn a diocese to prove his orthodoxy. 
And let him call me truckler. " In those times, 
Thou knowest we had to dodge, or duck, or die ; 
I kept my head for use of Holy Church ; 
And see you, we shall have to dodge again. 
And let the Pope trample our rights, and plunge 
His foreign fist into our island Church 
To plump the leaner pouch of Italy. 
For a time, for a time. 

Why ? that these st'atutes may be put in force, 
And that his fan may thoroughly purge his floor. 

Bonner. 
So then you hold the Pope — 

Gardiner. 

I hold the Pope ! 
What do I hold him ? what do I hold the Pope ? 
Come, come, the morsel stuck — this Cardinal's fault •— 
I have gulpt it down. I am wholly for the Pope, 
Utterly and altogether for the Pope, 
The Eternal Peter of the changeless chair, 
Crown'd slave of slaves, and mitred king of kings, 
God upon earth ! what more ? what would you have } 
Hence, lef s be gone. 



SCENE IV.] Queen Mary, 163 

Enter Usher. 

Usher. 

Well that you be not gone, 
My Lord. The Queen, most wroth at first with you, 
Is now content to grant you full forgiveness, 
So that you crave full pardon of the Legate. 
I am sent to fetch you. 

Gardiner. 

Doth Pole yield, sir, ha ! 
Did you hear 'em ? were you by ? 

Usher. 

I cannot tell you. 
His bearing is so courtly-delicate ; 
And yet methinks he falters : their t^vo Graces 
Do so dear-cousin and royal-cousin him, 
So press on him the duty which as Legate 
He ow^es himself, and with such royal smiles — 

Gardiner. 
Smiles that burn men. Bonner, it will be caiTied. 
He falters, ha ? 'fore God we change and change ; 
Men now are bow'd and old, the doctors tell you. 
At threescore years ; then if we change at all 



164 Quee7t Mary. [act hi. 

We needs must do it quickly ; it is an age 

Of brief life, and brief purpose, and brief patience, 

As I have shown to-day. I am sorry for it 

If Pole be like to turn. Our old friend Cranmer, 

Your more especial love, hath turn'd so often. 

He knows not where he stands, which, if this pass, 

We two shall have to teach him ; let 'em look to it, 

Cranmer and Hooper, Ridley and Latimer, 

Rogers and Ferrar, for their time is come, 

Their hour is hard at hand, their ^' dies Irae," 

Their ^^ dies Ilia," which will test their sect. 

I feel it but a duty — you will find in it 

Pleasure as well as duty, worthy Bonner, — 

To test their sect. Sir, I attend the Queen 

To crave most humble pardon — of her most 

Royal, Infallible, Papal Legate-cousin. 

\Excunt, 



SCENE v.— WOODSTOCK. 

Elizabeth, Lady in Waiting. 

Lady. 
The colors of our Queen are green and white, 
These fields are only green^ tliey make me gape. 



SCENE v.] Quee7i Mary. 165 

Elizabeth. 
There's whitethorn, girl. 

Lady. 

Ay, for an hour in May. 
But court IS always May, buds out in masks, 
I]reaks into feather'd merriments, and flowers 
In silken pageants. Why do they keep us here ? 
Why still suspect your Grace ? 

Elizabeth. 

Hard upon both. 
[ Writes on the window with a diamoficL 

Much suspected, of me 
Nothing proven can be, 

Quoth Elizabeth, prisoner. 

Lady. 
WTiat hath j'our Highness written ? 

Elizabeth. 

A true rhyme. 

Lady. 
Cut wdth a diamond ; so to last TJce truth. 

Elizabeth. 
Ay, if truth last. 



1 66 Queen Mary. [act iil 

Lady. 
But truth, they say, will out, 
So it must last. It is not like a word, 
That comes and goes in uttering. 

Elizabeth. 

Truth, a \vord ! 
The very Truth and ver}^ Word are one. 
]Vat truth of story, which I glanced at, girl, 
Is like a word that comes from olden days. 
And passes thro' the peoples : every tongue 
Alters it passing, till it spells and speaks 
Quite other than at first. 

Lady. 

I do not follow. 

Elizabeth. 

How many names in the long sweep of time 
That so foreshortens greatness, may but hang 
On the chance mention of some fool that once 
Biake bread wdth us, perhaps ; and my poor chronicle 
Is but of glass. Sir Henry Bedingfield 
May split it for a spite. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 167 

Lady. 
God grant it last, 
And witness to your Grace's innocence, 
Till doomsday melt it 

Elizabeth. 

Or a second fire, 
Like that which lately crackled underfoot 
And in this very chamber, fuse the glass, 
And char us back again into the dust 
We spring from. Never peacock against rain 
Screamed as you did for water. 

Lady. 

And I got it 
I woke Sir Henry — and he's true to you — 
I read his honest horror in his e}"es. 

Elizabeth. 
Or true to you ? 

Lady. 

Sir Henry Bedingfield ! 
I will have no man true to me, your Grace, 
But one that pares his nails ; to me ? the clown ! 
For, like his cloak, his manners want the nap 



1 68 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

And gloss of court ; but of this fire he says, 
Nay swears, it was no wicked wilfulness. 
Only a natural chance. 

Elizabeth. 

A chance — perchance 
One of those wicked wilfuls that men make. 
Nor shame to call it nature. Nay, I know 
They hunt my blood. Save for my daily range 
Among the pleasant fields of Holy Writ 
I might despair. But there hath some one come j 
The house is all in movement. Hence, and see. 

\Exit Lady. 

Milkmaid {singing without). 
Shame upon you, Robin, 

Shame upon you now ! 
Kiss me would you ? with my hands 

Milking the cow ? 

Daisies grow again. 

Kingcups blow again. 
And you came and kiss'd me milking the cow. 

Robin came behind me, 

Kiss'd me well I vow ; 
Cuff him could I ? with my hands 

Milking the cow ? 

Swallows fly again, 

Cuckoos cry again. 
And you came and kiss'd me milking the cow. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 169 

Come, Robin, Robin, 

Come and kiss me now ; 
Help it can I ? with my hands 

Milking the cow ? 

Ringdoves coo again, 

All things woo again. 
Come behind and kiss me milking the cow I 



Elizabeth. 

Right honest and red-cheek'd ; Robin was violent, 

And she was crafty — a sweet violence, 

And a sweet craft. I would I were a milkmaid, 

To sing, love, marry, chum, brew, bake, and die, 

Then have my simple headstone by the church, 

And all things lived and ended honestly. 

I could not if I would. I am Harry's daughter : 

Gardiner would have my head. They are not sweet, 

The violence and the craft that do divide 

The world of nature ; what is weak must lie ; 

The lion needs but roar to guard his young ; 

The lapwing lies, says " here " when they are there. 

Threaten the child ; " Til scourge you if you did it." 

What weapon hath the child, save his soft tongue, 

To say " I did not " t and my rod's the block. 

I never lay my head upon the pillow 

But that I think, " Wilt thou lie there to-morrow ? " 



1 70 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

How oft the falling axe, that never fell, 

Hath shock'd me back into the daylight truth 

That it may fall to-day ! Those damp, black, dead 

Nights in the Tower ; dead — with the fear of death — 

Too dead ev'n for a death-watch ! Toll of a bell, 

Stroke of a clock, the scurrying of a rat 

Affrighted me, and then delighted me. 

For there was life — And there was life in death — 

The little murdered princes, in a pale light. 

Rose hand in hand, and whisperM, " come away, 

The civil wars are gone forevermore : 

Thou last of all the Tudors, come away. 

With us is peace ! '' The last ? It was a dream ; 

I must not dream, not wink, but watch. She has 

gone. 
Maid Marian to her Robin — by and by 
Both happy ! a fox may filch a hen by night. 
And make a morning outcry in the yard j 
But there's no Renard here to " catch her tripping." 
Catch me who can ; yet, sometime I have wish'd 
That I were caught, and kilFd away at once 
Out of the flutter. The gray rogue, Gardiner, 
Went on his knees, and pray'd me to confess 
In Wyatt's business, and to cast myself 
Upon the good Queen's mercy ; ay, when, my Lord ? 
God save the Queen. My jailer — 



SCENE v.] Qtieen Mary. 1 7 1 

Enter Sir Henry Bedingfield. 

Bedingfield. 

One, whose bolts, 
That jail you from free life, bar you from death. 
There haunt some Papist ruffians hereabout 
Would murder you. 

Elizabeth. 

I thank you heartily, sir, 
But I am royal, tho' your prisoner, 
And God hath blest or cursed me with a nose — 
Your boots are from the horses. 

Bedingfield. 

Ay, my Lady. 
When next there comes a missive from the Queen 
It shall be all my study for one hour 
To rose and lavender my horsiness. 
Before I dare to glance upon your Grace. 

Elizabeth. 
A missive from the Queen : last time she wrote, 
I had like to have lost my life : it takes my breath : 
O God, sir, do you look upon your boots. 
Are you so small a man ? Help me : what think you, 
Is it life or death ? 



172 Qiieen Mary. [act in, 

Bedingfield. 

I thought not on my boots ; 
The devil take all boots were ever made 
Since man went barefoot. See, I lay it here, 
For I will come no nearer to your Grace ; 

[Laying down the letter. 
And whether it bring you bitter news or sweet. 
And God have given your Grace a nose, or not, 
I'll help you, if I may. 

Elizabeth. 

Your pardon, then ; 
It is the heat and narrowness of the cage 
That makes the captive testy ; with free wing 
The world were all one Araby. Leave me now, 
Will you, companion to myself, sir ? 

Bedingfield. 

Will I ? 
With most exceeding willingness, I will ; 
You know I never come till I be call'd. \Exit, 

Elizabeth. 

It lies there folded : is there venom in it 1 
A snake — and if I touch it, it may sting. 
Come, come, the worst ! 



SCENE v.] Qtieen Mary, 173 

Best wisdom is to know the worst at once. 

\Reads : 
" It is the King's wish that you should wed Prince 
Philibert of Savoy. You are to come to Court on the 
instant ; and think of this in your coming. 

"Mary the Queen." 

Think ! I have many thoughts ; 

I think there may be birdlime here for me ; 

I think they fain would have me from the realm j 

I think the Queen may never bear a child ; 

I think that I may be sometime the Queen, 

Then, Queen indeed : no foreign prince or priest 

Should fill my throne, myself upon the steps. 

I think I will not marry any one, 

Specially not this landless Philibert 

Of Savoy ; but, if Philip menace me, 

I think that I will play with Philibert, — 

As once the holy father did with mine. 

Before, my father married my good mother, — 

For fear of Spain. 

jEnfe?' Lady. 

Lady. 

O Lord ! your Grace, your Grace 
I feel so happy : it seems that we shall fly 



1 74 Qtteen Mary. [act hi. 

These bald, blank fields, and dance into the sun 
That shines on princes. 

Elizabeth. 

Yet, a moment since, 
I wished myself the milkmaid singing here. 
To kiss and cuif among the birds and flowers — 
A right rough life and healthful. 

Lady. 

But the wench 
Hath her own troubles ; she is weeping now ; 
For the wrong Robin took her at her word. 
Then the cow kick'd, and all her milk was spilt. 
Your Highness such a milkmaid ? 

Elizabeth. 

I had kept 
My Robins and my cows in sweeter order 
Had I been such. 

Lady (slyly). 
And had your Grace a Robin. 

Elizabeth. 
Come, come, you are chill here ; you want the sun 



SCENE VI.] Qiceen Mary. 175 

That shines at court ; make ready for the journey. 
Pray God, we 'scape the sunstroke. Ready at once. 

\Exeunt, 



SCENE VI. — LONDON. A ROOM IN THE 

PALACE. 

Lord Petre and Lord William Howard. 

Petre. 

You cannot see the Queen. Renard denied her, 
Ev'n now to me. 

Howard. 
Their Flemish go-betw^een 
And all-in-all. I came to thank her Majesty 
For freeing my friend Bagenhall from the Tower ; 
A grace to me ! Mercy, that herb-of-grace, 
Flowers now but seldom. 

Petre. 

Only now perhaps, 
Because the Queen hath been three days in tears 
For Philip's going — like the wild hedge-rose 
Of a soft winter, possible, not probable, 
However, you have prov'n it. 



1 76 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Howard. 

I must see her. 

E7iter Renard. 

Renard. 

My Lords, you cannot see her Majesty. 

Howard. 
Why then the King ! for I would have him bring it 
Home to the leisure wisdom of his Queen, 
Before he go, that since these statutes past, 
Gardiner out-Gardiners Gardiner in his heat, 
Bonner cannot out-Bonner his own self — 
Beast ! — but they play with fire as children do, 
And burn the house. I know that these are breeding 
A fierce resolve and fixt heart-hate in men 
Against the King, the Queen, the Holy Father, 
The faith itself. Can I not see him ? 

Renard. 

Not now. 
And in all this, my Lord, her Majesty 
Is flint of flint, you may strike fire from her, - 
Not hope to melt her, I will give your message. 

\Exeimt Petre aiid Howard. 



SCENE VI.] Q2ieen Mary. 177 

Enter Philip {musi7ig). 

Philip. 
She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy, 
I talked with her in vain — says she will live 
And die true maid — a goodly creature too. 
Would she had been the Queen ! yet she must have him ; 
She troubles England : that she breathes in England 
Is life and lungs to every rebel birth 
That passes out of embryo. 

Simon Renard ! — 
This Howard, whom they fear, what was he saying 1 

Renard. 
What your imperial father said, my liege, 
To deal with heresy gentlier. Gardiner burns. 
And Bonner burns j and it would seem this people 
Care more for our brief life in their wet land. 
Than yours in happier Spain. I told my Lord 
He should not vex her Highness ; she would say 
These are the means God works with, that His church 
May flourish. 

Philip. 
Ay, sir, but in statesmanship 
To strike too soon is oft to miss the blow. 
Thou knowest I bade my chaplain, Castro, preach 
Against these burnings. 



178 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Renard. 

And the Emperor 
Approved you, and when last he wrote, declared 
His comfort in your Grace that you were bland 
And affable to men of all estates. 
In hope to charm them from their hate of Spain. 



Philip. 
In hope to crush all heresy under Spain. 
But, Renard, I am sicker staying here 
Than any sea could make me passing hence, 
Tho' I be ever deadly sick at sea. 
So sick am I with biding for this child. 
Is it the fashion in this clime for women 
To go twelve months in bearing of a child ? 
The nurses yawn'd, the cradle gaped, they led 
Processions, chanted litanies, clash'd their bells. 
Shot off their lying cannon, and her priests 
Have preach'd, the fools, of this fair prince to come, 
Till, by St. James, I find myself the fool. 
Why do you lift your eyebrow at me thus ? 



Renard. 
I never saw your Highness moved till now. 



SCENE VI.] Queen Mary. 179 

Philip. 

So, weary am I of this wet land of theirs^. 
And every soul of man that breathes therein, 

Renard. 

-J 

My liege, we must not drop the mask before 
The masquerade is over — 

Philip. 

— Have I dropt it ? 
I have but shown a loathing face to you, 
Who knew it from the first. 

Enter Mary. 

Mary {aside). 

With Renard. Still 
Parleying with Renard, all the day with Renard, 
And scarce a greeting all the day for me — 
And goes to-morrow. \Exit Mary. 

Philip {to Renard, who advances to him). 
Well, sir, is there more ? 

Renard {who has perceived the Queen). 
May Simon Renard speak a single word t 



i8o 




Queen Mary. 








Philip. 


Ay. 






Renard. 


And be 


forgiven 


for it i 


? 



[act III. 



Philip. 

Simon Renard 
Knows me too well to speak a single word 
That could not be forgiven. 

Renard. 

Well, my liege, 
Your Grace hath a most chaste and loving wife. 

Philip. 
Why not ? The Queen of Philip should be chaste. 

Renard. 

Ay, but, my Lord, you know what Virgil sings, 
Woman is various and most mutable. 

Philip. 
She play the harlot ! never. 

Renard. 

No, sire, no, 



SCENE VI.] Qtceen Mary. i8i 

Not dreamed of by the rabidest gospeller. 
There was a paper thrown into the palace, 
" The King hath wearied of his barren bride." 
She came upon it, read it, and then rent it, 
With all the rage of one who hates a truth 
He cannot but allow. Sire, I would have you — 
What should I say, I cannot pick my words — 
Be somewhat less — majestic to your Queen. 

Philip. 

Am I to change my manners, Simon Renard, 
Because these islanders are brutal beasts ? 
Or would you have me turn a sonneteer. 
And warble those brief-sighted eyes of hers ? 



Renard. 

Brief-sighted tho' they be, I have seen them, sire, 
WTien you perchance were trifling royally 
With some fair dame of court, suddenly fill 
With such fierce fire — had it been fire indeed 
It would have burnt both speakers. 

Philip. 

Ay, and then ? 



1 82 Queen Mary, [act hi, 

Renard. 

Sire, might it not be policy in some matter 
Of small importance now and then to cede 
A point to her demand ? 

Philip, 
Well, I am going. 

Renard. 

For should her love when you are gone, my liege, 

Witness these papers, there will not be wanting 

Those that will urge her injury — should her love — 

And I have known such women more than one — 

Veer to the counterpoint, and jealousy 

Hath in it an alchemic force to fuse 

Almost into one metal love and hate, — 

And she impress her wrongs upon her Council, 

And these again upon her Parliament — 

We are not loved here, and would be then perhaps 

Not so well holpen in our wars with France, 

As else we might be — here she comes. 

Enter Mary. 

Mary. 

O Philip ! 
Nay, must you go indeed ? 



SCENE VI.] Qtceen Mary. 183 

Philip. 

Madam, I must. 

Mary. 

The parting of a husband and a wife 
Is like the cleaving of a heart ; one half 
Will flutter here, one there. 

Philip. 

You say true. Madam. 

Mary. 

The Holy Virgin will not have me yet 

Lose the sweet hope that I may bear a prince. 

If such a prince were born and you not here ! 

Philip. 
I should be here if such a prince were born. 

Mary. 
But must you go ? 

Philip. 

Madam, you know my father, 
Retiring into cloistral solitude 
To yield the remnant of his years to heaven. 



184 Queen Mary. [act hi* 

Will shift the yoke and weight of all the world 
From off his neck to mine. We meet at Brussels. 
But since mine absence will not be for long, 
Your Majesty shall go to Dover with me, 
And wait my coming back. 

Mary. 

To Dover ? no, 
I am too feeble. I will go to Greenwich, 
So you will have me with you ; and there watch 
All that is gracious in the breath of heaven 
Draw with your sails from our poor land, and pass 
And leave me, Philip, with my prayers for you. 

Philip. 
And doubtless I shall profit by your prayers. 

Mary. 

Methinks that would you tarry one day more 
(The news was sudden) I could mould myself 
To bear your going better ; will you do it 1 

Philip. 
Madam, a day may sink or save a realm. 



SCENE VI.] Queen Mary. 185 

Mary. 
A day may save a heart from breaking too. 

Philip. 
Well, Simon Renard^ shall we stop a day ? 

Renard. 

Your Grace's business \\ill not suffer, sire, 
For one day more, so far as I can tell. 

Philip. 
Then one day more to please her Majesty. 

Mary. 

The sunshine sweeps across my life again. 

if I knew you felt this parting, Philip, 
As I do! 

Philip. 

By St. James I do protest. 
Upon the faith and honor of a Spaniard, 

1 am vastly grieved to leave your Majesty. 
Simon, is supper ready ? 



1 86 Queen Mary. [act hi. 

Renard. 

Ay, my liege, 
I saw the covers laying. 

Philip. 
Let us have it. \Exeunt. 



Queen Mary. 187 



ACT IV. 

SCENE L — A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 

Mary, Cardinal Pole. 

Mary. 
What have you there ? 

Pole. 

So please your Majesty, 
A long petition from the foreign exiles 
To spare the life of Cranmer. Bishop Thirlby, 
And my Lord Paget and Lord William Howard, 
Crave, in the same cause, hearing of your Grace. 
Hath he not written himself — infatuated — 
To sue you for his life ? 

Mary. 

His life ? Oh, no ; 
Not sued for that — he knows it were in vain. 
But so much of the anti-papal leaven 
Works in him yet, he hath pray'd me not to sully 



1 88 Queen Mary. [act iv 

Mine own prerogative, and degrade the realm 
By seeking justice at a stranger's hand 
Against my natural subject. King and Queen, 
To whom be owes his loyalty after God, 
Shall these accuse him to a foreign prince ? 
Death would not grieve him more. I cannot be 
True to this realm of England and the Pope 
Together, says the heretic. 

Pole. 

And there errs ; 
As he hath ever err'd thro' vanity. 
A secular kingdom is but as the body 
Lacking a soul ; and in itself a beast. 
The Holy Father in a secular kingdom 
Is as the soul descending out of heaven 
Into a body generate. 

Mary. 

Write to him, then. 

Pole. 
I will. 

Mary. 

And sharply, Pole. 



SCENE I.] Qtieen Mary. 1S9 

Pole. 
Here come the Cranmerites ! 

Enter Thirley, Lord Paget, Lord William Howard. 

Howard. 

Health to your Grace. Good-morrow, my Lord Cardinal ; 

We make our humble prayer unto your Grace 

That Cranmer may withdraw to foreign parts, 

Or into private life within the realm. 

In several bills and declarations, Madam, 

He hath recanted all his heresies. 

Paget. 
Ay, ay \ if Bonner have not forged the bills. \Aside. 

Mary. 
Did not More die, and Fisher 1 he must bum. 

Howard. 
He hath recanted, Madam. 

Mary. 

The better for him. 
He burns in Purgator}^, not in Hell. 

Howard. 
Ay, ay, your Grace ; but it was never seen 



1 90 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

That any one recanting thus at full, 

As Cranmer hath, came to the fire on earth. 



Mary. 



It will be seen now, then. 



Thirlby. 

O Madam, Madam ! 
I thus implore you, low upon my knees, 
To reach the hand of mercy to my friend 
I have err'd with him ; with him I have recanted. 
What human reason is there why my friend 
Should meet with lesser mercy than myself t 

Mary. 

My Lord of Ely, this. After a riot 

We hang the leaders, let their following go. 

Cranmer is head and father of these heresies, 

New learning as they call it ; yea, may God 

Forget me at most need when I forget 

Her foul divorce — my sainted mother — No ! — 

Howard. 

Ay, ay, but mighty doctors doubted there. 
The Pope himself waver'd ; and more than one 
Row'd in that galley — Gardiner to wit. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 191 

Whom truly I deny not to have been 
Your faithful friend and trusty councillor. 
Hath not your Highness ever read his book, 
His tractate upon True Obedience, 
Writ by himself and Bonner ? 

Mary. 

I will take 
Such order with all bad, heretical books 
That none shall hold them in his house and live, 
Henceforward. No, my Lord. 

Howard. 

Then never read it. 
The truth is here. Your father was a man 
Of such colossal kinghood, yet so courteous, 
Except when wroth, you scarce could meet his eye 
And hold your own ; and were he wroth indeed, 
You held it less, or not at all. I say. 
Your father had a will that beat men down ; 
Your father had a brain that beat men down — 

Pole. 
Not me, my Lord. 

Howard. 
No, for you were not here; 



192 Qtcee7i Mary. [act iv, 

You sit upon this fallen Cranmer's throne ; 
And it would more become you, my Lord Legate, 
To join a voice, so potent with her Highness, 
To ours in plea for Cranmer than to stand 
On naked self-assertion. 

Mary. 

All your voices 
Are waves on flint. The heretic must bum. 

Howard. 

f et once he saved your Majesty's own life ; 
Stood out against the King in your behalf, 
At his own peril. 

Mary. 

I know not if he did ; 
And if he did I care not, my Lord Howard, 
My life is not so happy, no such boon, 
That I should spare to take a heretic priest's, 
Who saved it or not saved. Why do you vex me ? 

Paget. 

Yet to save Cranmer were to save the Church, 
Your Majesty's I mean ; he is effaced, 
Self-blotted out ; so wounded in his honor. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 193 

He can but creep down into some dark hole 
Like a hurt beast, and hide himself and die ; 
But if you burn him, — well, your Highness knows 
The saying, " Martyr's blood — seed of the Church." 

Mary. 

Of the true Church ; but his is none, nor will be. 
You are too politic for me, my Lord Paget. 
And if he have to live so loath'd a life, 
It were more merciful to burn him now. 

Thirlby. 

O yet relent. O, Madam, if you knew him 
As I do, ever gentle, and so gracious, 
With all his learning — 

Mary. 

Yet a heretic still. 
His learning makes his burning the more just. 

Thirlby. 

So worshipt of all those that came across him ; 
The stranger at his hearth, and all his house — 

Mary. 

His children and his concubine, belike. 
13 



1 94 Qtteen Mary. [act iv. 

Thirlby. 

To do him any wrong was to beget 
K kindness from him, for his heart was rich, 
Of such fine mould, that if you sow'd therein 
The seed of Hate, it blossom'd Charity. 

Pole. 

" After his kind it costs him nothing," there's 
An old world English adage to the point. 
These are but natural graces, my good Bishop, 
Which in the Catholic garden are as flowers, 
But on the heretic dunghill only weeds. 

Howard. 
Such weeds make dunghills gracious. 

Mary. 

Enough, my Lords. 
It IS God's will, the Holy Father's will. 
And Philip's will, and mine, that he should burn. 
He is pronounced anathema. 

Howard. 

Farewell, Madam, 
God grant you ampler mercy at your call 
Than you have shown to Cranmer. [Exeunt Lords. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 195 

Pole. 

After this, 
Your Grace will hardly care to overlook 
This same petition of the foreign exiles, 
For Cranmer's life. 

Mary. 
Make out the writ to-night. 

\Exe2int, 



SCENE XL — OXFORD. CRANMER IN PRISON. 

Cranmer. 

Last night, I dream'd the fagots were alight, 
And that myself was fastened to the stake, 
And found it all a visionar}^ flame, 
Cool as the light in old decaying wood ; 
And then King Harry look'd from out a cloud, 
And bade me have good courage ; and I heard 
An angel cry, " there is more joy in Heaven,'' — 
And after that, the trumpet of the dead. 

\T7'umpets without. 
Why, there are trumpets blowing now : what is it ? 



196 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Enter Father Cole. 

Cole. 
Cranmer, I come to question you again ; 
Have you remain'd in the true Catholic Faith 
I left you in t 

Cranmer. 

In the true Catholic faith, 
By Heaven's grace, I am more and more confirmed. 
Why are the trumpets blowing. Father Cole ? 

Cole. 

Cranmer, it is decided by the Council 

That you to-day should read your recantation 

Before the people in St. Mary's Church. 

And there be many heretics in the town, 

Who loathe you for your late return to Rome, 

And might assail you passing through the street, 

And tear you piecemeal : so you have a guard. 

Cranmer. * 

Or seek to rescue me. I thank the Council. 

Cole. 
Do you lack any money ? 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 197 

Cranmer. 

Nay, why should I ? 
The prison fare is good enough for me. 

Cole. 
Ay, but to give the poor. 

Cranmer. 

Hand it me, then ! 
I thank you. 

Cole. 

For a little space, farewell ; 
Until I see you in St. Mary's Church. [Exit Cole, 

Cranmer. 

It is against all precedent to burn 

One who recants ; they mean to pardon me. 

To give the poor — they give the poor who die. 

Well, burn me or not burn me I am fixt ; 

It is but a communion, not a mass : 

A holy supper, not a sacrifice ; 

No man can make his Maker — Villa Garcia. 

Enter Villa Garcia. 

Villa Garcia. 
Pray you write out this paper for me, Cranmer. 



198 Qiceen Mary. [act iv. 

Cranmer. 
Have I not writ enough to satisfy you ? 

Villa Garcia. 
It is the last. 

Cranmer, 
Give it me, then. \He writes. 

Villa Garcia. 

Now sign. 

Cranmer. 
I have sign'd enough, and I will sign no more. 

Villa Garcia. 

It is no more than what you have sign'd already, 
The public form thereof. 

Cranmer. 

It may be so ; 
I sign it with my presence, if I read it. 

Villa Garcia. 

But this is idle of you. Well, sir, well, 
You are to beg the people to pray for you ; 



SCENE II.] Queeii Mary. 199 

Exhort them to a pure and virtuous life ; 
Declare the Queen's right to the throne ; confess 
Your faith before all hearers ; and retract 
That Eucharistic doctrine in your book. 
Will you not sign it now? 

Cranmer. 

No, Villa Garcia, 
I sign no more. Will they have mercy on me ? 

Villa Garcia. 
Have you good hopes of mercy ! So, farewell. \_Exit 

Cranmer. 

Good hopes, not theirs, have I that I am fixt, 
Fixt beyond fall ; however, in strange hours, 
After the long brain-dazing colloquies. 
And thousand-times recurring argument 
Of those two friars ever in my prison. 
When left alone in my despondency. 
Without a friend, a book, my faith would seem 
Dead or half-drown'd, or else swam heavily 
Against the huge corruptions of the Church, 
Monsters of mistradition, old enough 
To scare me into dreaming, '^what am L 



200 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Cranmer, against whole ages ? " was it so, 
Or am I slandering my most inward friend, 
To veil the fault of my most outward foe — 
The soft and tremulous coward in the flesh ? 

higher, holier, earlier, purer church, 

1 have found thee and not leave thee any more. 
It is but a communion, not a mass — 

No sacrifice, but a life-giving feast ! 

{Writes^ So, so ; this will I say — thus will I pray. 

\Puts up the paper. 

Enter Bonner. 

Bonner. 

Good-day, old friend \ what, you look somewhat worn : 

And yet it is a day to test your health 

Ev'n at the best : I scarce have spoken with you 

Since when ? — your degradation. At your trial 

Never stood up a bolder man than you ; 

You would not cap the Pope's commissioner — 

Your learning, and your stoutness, and your heresy, 

Dumfounded half of us. So, after that, 

We had to dis-archbishop and unlord, 

And make you simple Cranmer once again. 

The common barber dipt your hair, and I 

Scraped from your finger-points the holy oil ; 



SCENE II.] Qitecii Mary. 201 

And worse than all, you had to kneel to me : 
Which was not pleasant for you, Master Cranmer. 
Now you, that would not recognize the Pope, 
And you, that would not own the Real Presence, 
Have found a real presence in the stake. 
Which frights you back into the ancient faith ; 
And so you have recanted to the Pope. 
How are the might}" fallen, Master Cranmer ! 

Craxmer. 

You have been more fierce against the Pope than I ; 
But why fling back the stone he strikes me with ? 

\Aside, 

Bonner, if I ever did you kindness — 
Power hath been given you to tr\' faith by fire — 
Pray you, remembering how yourself have changed, 
Be somewhat pitiful, after I have gone, 

To the poor flock — to women and to children — 
That when I was archbishop held vrith me. 

Bonner. 

Ay — geniie as they call you — live or die ! 
Pitiful to this pitiful heresy ? 

1 must obey the Queen and Council, man. 
Win thro' this day with honor to yourself. 

And I'll say something for you — so — good-by. [Exit. 



202 Queen Mary, [act iv 

Cranmer. 

This hard coarse man of old hath crouch'd to me 
Till I myself was half ashamed for him. 

Enter Thirlby. 
Weep not, good Thirlby. 

Thirlby. 

Oh, my Lord, my Lord ! 
My heart is no such block as Bonner's is : 
Who would not weep ? 

Cranmer. 

Why do you so my-lord me, 
Who am disgraced ? 

Thirlby. 

On earth ; but saved in heaven 

Cranmer. 
Will they burn me, Thirlby t 

Thirlby. 

Alas, they will ; these burnings will not help 
The purpose of the faith ; but my poor voice 



By your recanting. 



SCENE II.] Q7iee7i Mary. 203 

Against them is a whisper to the roar 
Of a spring-tide. 

Cranmer. 
And they will surely burn me ? 

Thirlby. 

Ay ; and besides, will have you in the church 
Repeat your recantation in the ears 
Of all men, to the saving of their souls, 
Before your execution. May God help you 
Thro' that hard hour. 

Cranmer. 

And may God bless you, Thirlby, 
Well, they shall hear my recantation there. 

\Exit Thirlby. 
Disgraced, dishonor'd ! — not by them, indeed, 
By mine own self — by mine own hand ! 
O thin-skinn'd hand and jutting veins, 'twas you 
That sign'd the burning of poor Joan of Kent ; 
But then she was a witch. You have written much, 
But you were never raised to plead for Frith, 
Whose dogmas I have reach'd : he was deliver'd 
•To the secular arm to burn ; and there was Lambert ; 
Wlio can foresee himself ? truly these burnings, 



204 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

As Thirlby says, are profitless to the burners, 

And help the other side. You shall burn too, 

Burn first when I am burnt. 

Fire — inch by inch to die in agony ! Latimer 

Had a brief end — not Ridley. Hooper burn'd 

Three-quarters of an hour. Will my fagots 

Be wet as his were? It is a day of rain. 

I will not muse upon it. 

My fancy takes the burner's part, and makes 

The fire seem even crueller than it is. 

No, I not doubt that God will give me strength. 

Albeit I have denied him. 

Enter Soto a7id Villa Garcia. 

Villa Garcia. 

We are ready 
To take you to St. Mary's, Master Cranmer. 

Cranmer. 

And I : lead on ; ye loose me from my bonds. 

{Exeunt 



SCENE III.] Qiccen Mary. 205 



SCENE III. — ST. MARY'S CHURCH. 

Cole in the Pulpit, Lord Williams of Thame presid- 
ing. Lord William Howard, Lord Paget, and 
others, Cr-\xmer enters between Soto and Villa 
Garcia, and the whole Choir strike up " Nunc 
Dimittis." Craxmer is set upan a Scaffold before 
tJie people. 

Cole. 
Behold him — \A pause; people in tJu foreground. 



People. 



Oh, unhappy sight ! 



First Protestant. 
See how the tears run down his fatherly face. 

Second Protestant. 

James, didst thou ever see a carrion crow 
Stand watching a sick beast before he dies ? 

First Protestant. 
Him perch'd up there ? I wish some thunderbolt 
Would make tliis Cole a cinder, pulpit and all. 



2o6 Queeii Mary. [act iv 

Cole. 

Behold him, brethren : he hath cause to weep ! — 

So have we all : weep with him if ye will, 

Yet — 

It is expedient for one man to die. 

Yea, for the people, lest the people die. 

Yet wherefore should he die that hath returned 

To the one Catholic Universal Church, 

Repentant of his errors ? 

Protestant murmurs. 

Ay, tell us that 

Cole. 

Those of the wrong side will despise the man, 
Deeming him one that thro' the fear of death 
Gave up his cause, except he seal his faith 
In sight of all with flaming mart}Tdom. 

Cranmer. 
Ay. 

Cole. 

Ye hear him, and albeit there may seem 
According to the canons pardon due 
To him that so repents, yet are there causes 
Wherefore our Queen and Council at this time 



SCENE III.] Qiicen Mary. 207 

Adjudge him to the death. He hath been a traitor, 

A shaker and confounder of the realm ; 

And when the King's divorce was sued at Rome, 

He here, this heretic metropoHtan, 

As if he had been the Holy Father, sat 

And judged it. Did I call him heretic ? 

A huge heresiarch ! never was it known 

That any man so writing, preaching so, 

So poisoning the Church, so long continuing, 

Hath found his pardon ; therefore he must die, 

For warning and example. 

Other reasons 
There be for this man's ending, which our Queen 
And Council at this present deem it not 
Expedient to be known. 

Protestant 7niir7rmrs, 
I warrant you. 

Cole. 

Take therefore, all, example by this man, 
For if our Holy Queen not pardon him, 
Much less shall others in like cause escape, 
That all of you, the highest as the lowest. 
May learn there is no power against the Lord. 
There stands a man, once of so high degree. 



2o8 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Chief prelate of our Church, archbishop, first 
In Council, second person in the realm, 
Friend for so long time of a mighty King ; 
And now ye see downfallen and debased 
From councillor to caitiff — fallen so low, 
The leprous flutterings of the byway, scum 
And offal of the cit}^ would not change 
Estates with him ; in brief, so miserable, 
There is no hope of better left for him, 
No place for worse. 

Yet, Cranmer, be thou glad. 
This is the work of God. He is glorified 
In thy conversion : lo ! thou art reclaimed ; 
He brings thee home : nor fear but that to-day 
Thou shalt receive the penitent thief's award. 
And be with Christ the Lord in Paradise. 
Remember how God made the fierce fire seem 
To those three children like a pleasant dew. 
Remember, too, 

The triumph of St. Andrew on his cross, 
The patience of St. Lawrence in the fire. 
Thus, if thou call on God and all the saints, 
God will beat down the fury of the flame. 
Or give thee saintly strength to undergo. 
And for thy soul shall masses here be sung 
By every priest in Oxford. Pray for him. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 209 

Cranmer. 
Ay, one and all, dear brothers, pray for me ; 
Pray with one breath, one heart, one soul, for me. 

Cole. 
And now, lest any one among you doubt 
The man's conversion and remorse of heart, 
Yourselves shall hear him speak. Speak, Maslei 

Cranmer, 
Fulfil your promise made me, and proclaim 
Your true undoubted faith, that all may hear. 

Cranmer. 
And that I will. O God, Father of Heaven ! 
O Son of God, Redeemer of the world ! 

Holy Ghost ! proceeding from them both. 
Three persons and one God, have mercy on me. 
Most miserable sinner, wretched man. 

1 have offended against heaven and earth 
More grievously than any tongue can tell. 
Then whither should I flee for any help .'* 
I am ashamed to lift my eyes to heaven, 
And I can find no refuge upon earth. 

Shall I despair then ? — God forbid ! O God, 
For thou art merciful, refusing none 
That come to Thee for succor, unto Thee, 
Therefore, I come ; humble myself to Thee ; 
14 



2IO Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Saying, O Lord God, although my sins be great, 

For thy great mercy have mercy ! O God the Son, 

Not for sHght faults alone, when thou becamest 

Man in the Flesh, was the great mystery wrought ; 

O God the Father, not for little sins 

Didst thou yield up thy Son to human death ; 

But for the greatest sin that can be sinn'd, 

Yea, even such as mine, incalculable, 

Unpardonable, — sin against the light. 

The truth of God, which I had proven and known. 

Thy mercy must be greater than all sin. 

Forgive me, Father, for no merit of mine, 

But that Thy name by man be glorified, 

And Thy most blessed Son's, who died for man. 

Good people, every man at time of death 
Would fain set forth some saying that may live 
After his death and better humankind ; 
For death gives life's last word a power to live, 
And, like the stone-cut epitaph, remain 
After the vanished voice, and speak to men. 
God grant me grace to glorify my God ! 
And first I say it is a grievous cp.se, 
Many so dote upon this bubble world. 
Whose colors in a moment break and fly. 
They care for nothing else. What saith St. John : — 
** Love of this world is hatred against God." 



SCENE lu.] Queen Mary. 2 1 1 

Again, I pray you all that, next to God, 

You do unmurmuringly and willingly 

Obey your King and Queen, and not for dread 

Of these alone, but from the fear of Him 

Whose ministers they be to govern you. 

Thirdly, I pray you all to love together 

Like brethren ; yet what hatred Christian men 

Bear to each other, seeming not as brethren. 

But mortal foes ! But do you good to all 

As much as in you lieth. Hurt no man more 

Than you would harm your loving natural brother 

Of the same roof, same breast. If any do. 

Albeit he think himself at home with God, 

Of this be sure, he is whole worlds away. 

Protestant murmurs. 

What sort of brothers then be those that lust 
To burn each other ? 

Williams. 
Peace among you, there. 

Cranmer. 

Fourthly, to those that own exceeding wealth. 
Remember that sore saying spoken once 
By Him that was the truth, "how hard it is 



212 Queen Mary. [act iv 

For the rich man to enter into Heaven ; " 
Let all rich men remember that hard word. 
I have not time for more : if ever, now 
Let them flow forth in charity, seeing now 
The poor so many, and all food so dear. 
Long have I lain in prison, yet have heard 
Of all their wretchedness. Give to the poor, . 
Ye give to God. He is with us in the poor. 
And now, and forasmuch as I have come 
To the last end of life, and thereupon 
Hangs all my past, and all my life to be, 
Either to live with Christ in Heaven with joy, 
Or to be still in pain with devils in hell ; 
And, seeing in a moment, I shall find {Pointing upwards. 
Heaven or else hell ready to swallow me, 

\Poi7iting downwards 
I shall declare to you my very faith 
Without all color. 

Cole. 
Hear him, my good brethren. 

Cranmer. 
I do believe in God, Father of all ; 
In every article of the Catholic faith, 
And every syllable taught us by our Lord, 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 2 1 3 

His prophets, and apostles, in the Testaments, 
Both Old and New. 

Cole. 
Be plainer, Master Cranmer. 

Cranmer. 

And now I come to the great cause that weighs 
Upon my conscience more than any thing 
Or said or done in all my life by me ; 
For there be writings I have set abroad 
Against the truth I knew within my heart, 
Written for fear of death, to save my life, 
If that might be j the papers by my hand 
Sign'd since my degradation — by this hand 

[^Holding out his right ha?id 
Written and sign'd — I here renounce them all ; 
And, since my hand offended, having written 
Against my heart, my hand shall first be burnt, 
So I may comjs to the fire. \pead silence. 

Protestant murmurs. 
First Protestant. 
I knew it would be so. 

Second Protestant. 

Our prayers are heard ! 



2 14 Qtieen Mary. [act iv. 

Third Protestant. 
God bless him ! 

Catholic murmurs. 
Out upon him ! out upon him ! 
I^iar ! dissembler ! traitor ! to the fire ! 

Williams {raising his voice). 

You know that you recanted all you said 
Touching the sacrament in that same book 
You wrote against my Lord of Winchester ; 
Dissemble not ; play the plain Cliristian man. 

Cranmer. 

Alas, my Lord, 

I have been a man loved plainness all my life ; 

I did dissemble, but the hour has come 

For utter truth and plainness ; wherefore, I say, 

I hold by all I wrote within that book. 

Moreover, 

As for the Pope I count him Antichrist, 

With all his devil's doctrines ; and refuse. 

Reject him, and abhor him. I have said. 

\Cries on all sides ^ " Pull him down ! Away 
with him." 



SCENE III.] Qtceen Mary. 2 1 5 

Cole. 
Ay, stop the heretic's mouth. Hale him away. 

Williams. 

Harm him not, harm him not, have him to the fire. 

[Cranmer ^(^<?i" out between Two Friars^ smiling ; 
hands are reached to hi77i fro?n the crowd. 
Lord William Howard afid Lord Pagei 
are left alone in the church, 

Paget. 

The nave and aisles all empty as a fool's jest ! 

No, here's Lord William Howard. What, my Lord, 

You have not gone to see the burning ? 

Howard. 

Fie! 
To stand at ease, and stare as at a show, 
And watch a good man burn. Never again. 
I saw the deaths of Latimer and Ridley. 
Moreover tho' a Catholic, I would not. 
For the pure honor of our common nature. 
Hear what I might — another recantation 
Of Cranmer at the stake. 

Paget. 

You'd not hear that. 



/ 

/ 



2i6 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

• 

He pass'd out smiling, and he walk'd upright ; 
His eye was like a soldier's, whom the general 
He looks to and he leans on as his God, 
Hath rated for some backwardness and bidden him 
Charge one against a thousand, and the man 
Hurls his soil'd life against the pikes and dies. 

Howard. 
Yet that he might not after all those papers 
Of recantation yield again, who knows ? 

Paget. 

Papers of recantation, think you then 
That Cranmer read all papers that he signed ? 
Or sign'd all those they tell us that he sign'd ? 
Nay, I trow not : and you shall see, my Lord, 
That howsoever hero-like the man 
Dies in the fire, this Bonner or another 
Will in some lying fashion misreport 
His ending to the glory of their church. 
And you saw Latimer and Ridley die ? 
Latimer was eighty, was he not t his best 
Of life was over then. 

Howard. 

His eighty years 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 217 

Looked somewhat crooked on him in his frieze \ 
But after they had stript him to his shroud, 
He stood upright, a lad of twenty-one, 
And gathered with his hands the starting flame, 
And washed his hands and all his face therein, 
Until the powder suddenly blew him dead. 
Ridley was longer burning ; but he died 
As manfully and boldly, and 'fore God, 
I know them heretics, but right English ones. 
If ever, as heaven grant, we clash with Spain, 
Our Ridley-soldiers and our Latimer-sailors 
Will teach her something. 

Paget. 

Your mild Legate Pole 
Will tell you that the devil helpt them thro' it. 

\A murmur of the Crowd in the distance^ 
Hark, how those Roman wolfdogs howl and bay him. 

Howard. 

Might it not be the other side rejoicing 
In his brave end ? 

Paget. 

They are too crush'd, too broken. 
They can but weep in silence. 



2i8 Queen Mary, [act iv 

Howard. 

Ay, ay, Paget, 
They have brought it in large measure on themselves. 
Have I not heard them mock the blessed Host 
In songs so lewd, the beast might roar his claim 
To being in God's image, more than they ? 
Have I not seen the gamekeeper, the groom. 
Gardener, and huntsman, in the parson's place, 
The parson from his own spire swung out dead, 
And Ignorance crying in the streets, and all men 
Regarding her ? I say they have drawn the fire 
On their own heads : yet, Paget, I do hold 
The Catholic, if he have the greater right, 
Hath been the crueller. 

Paget. 
Action and re-action, 
The miserable see-saw of our child-world, 
Make us despise it at odd hours, my Lord. 
Heaven help that this re-action not re-act, 
Yet fiercelier under Queen Elizabeth, 
So that she come to rule us. 

Howard. 

The world's mad. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 2 1 9 

Paget. 
My Lord, the world is like a drunken man, 
Who cannot move straight to his end — but reels 
Now to the right, then as far to the left. 
Pushed by the crowd beside — and underfoot 
An earthquake ; for since Henry for a doubt — 
Which a young lust had clapt upon the back, 
Crying, " Forward,'' — set our old church rocking, men 
Have hardly known what to believe, or whether 
They should believe in any thing ; the currents 
So shift and change, they see not how they are borne, 
Nor whither. I conclude the King a beast ; 
Verily a lion if you will — the world 
A most obedient beast and fool — myself 
Half beast and fool as appertaining to it ; 
Altho' your Lordship hath as little of each 
Cleaving to your original Adam-clay, 
As may be consonant with mortality. 

Howard. 
We talk and Cranmer suffers. 
The kindliest man I ever knew ; see, see, 
I speak of him in the past. Unhappy land ! 
Hard-natured Queen, half Spanish in herself. 
And grafted on the hard-grain'd stock of Spain — 
Her life, since Philip left her, and she lost 



2 20 Queen Mary. [act tv. 

Her fierce desire of bearing him a child, 
Hath, like a brief and bitter winter's day. 
Gone narrowing down and darkening to a close. 
There will be more conspiracies, I fear. 

Paget. 
Ay, ay, beware of France. 

Howard. 

O Paget, Paget ! 
I have seen heretics of the poorer sort. 
Expectant of the rack from day to day. 
To whom the fire were welcome, lying chained 
In breathless dungeons over steaming sewers. 
Fed with rank bread that crawPd upon the tongue, 
And putrid water, every drop a worm, 
Until they died of rotted limbs ; and then 
Cast on the dunghill naked, and become 
Hideously alive again from head to heel, 
Made even the carrion-nosing mongrel vomit 
With hate and horror. 

Paget. 

Nay, you sicken me 
To hear you. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 221 

Howard. 

Fancy-sick ; these things are done, 
Done right against the promise of this Queen 
Twice given. 

Paget. 

No faith with heretics, my Lord ! 
Hist ! there be t^vo old gossips — gospellers, 
I take it ; stand behind the pillar here ; 
I warrant you they talk about the burning. 

Enter Two Old Women. Joan, and after her Tib. 

Joan. 

Why, it be Tib. 

Tib. 

I cum behind tha, gall, and couldn't make tha hear. 
Eh, the wind and the wet ! What a day, what a day ! 
nigh upo' judgment daay loike. Pwoaps be pretty 
things, Joan, but they wunt set i' the Lords' cheer o' 
that daay. 

Joan. 

I must set down myself, Tib ; it be a var waay vor 
my owld legs up vro' Islip. Eh, my rheumatizy be 
that bad howiver be I to win to the burnin'. 



2 22 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Tib. 

I should saay 'twur ower by now. I'd ha' been here 
avore, but Dumble wur blow'd wi' the wind, and Bum- 
ble's the best milcher in Islip. 

Joan. 
Our Daisy's as good 'z her. 

Tib. 

Noa, Joan. 

Joan. 
Our Daisy's butter's as good 'z hem. 

Tib. 
Noa, Joan. 

Joan. 
Our Daisy's cheeses be better. 

Tib. 

Noa, Joan. 

Joan. 

Eh, then ha' thy waay wi' me, Tib ; ez thou hast wi' 
thy owld man. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 223 

Tib. 

Ay, Joan, and my owld man wur up and awaay be 
times wi' dree hard eggs for a good pleace at the burn- 
in' ; and barrin' the wet, Hodge 'ud ha' been a-harro\vin' 
o' white peasen i' the outfield — and barrin' the wind, 
Dumble w^r blow'd wi' the wind, so 'z we was forced to 
stick her, but we fetched her round at last. Thank the 
Lord therevore. Dumble's the best milcher in Islip. 

Joan. 

Thou's thy way wi' man and beast, Tib. I wonder 
at tha', it beats me ! Eh, but I do know ez Pwoaps 
and vires be bad things ; tell 'ee now, I heerd summat 
as summun towld summun o' owld Bishop Gardiner's 
end ; there ^\Tir an owld lord a-cum to dine wi' un, and 
a wur so owld a couldn't bide vor his dinner, but a 
had to bide howsomiver, vor " I ^\'unt dine," says my 
Lord Bishop, says he, " not till I hears ez Latimer and 
Ridley be a-we ; " and so they bided on and on till 
vour o' the clock, till his man cum in post vro' here, 
and tells un ez the vire has tuk holt, ^'Now," says the 
bishop, says he, '' we'll gwo to dinner ; " and the owld 
lord fell to 's meat wi' a will, God bless un ; but 
Gardiner wur struck down like bv the hand o' God 
avore a could taste a mossel, and a set him all a-vire, 



2 24 Quee7i Mary. [act iv. 

so 'z the tongue on un cum a-lolluping out o' 'is mouth 
as black as a rat. Thank the Lord, therevore. 

Paget. 
The fools \ 

Tib. 
Ay, Joan j and Queen Mary gwoes on a-burnin' and 
a-burnin', to git her baaby born ; but all her burnins' 
'ill never burn out the hypocrisy that makes the water 
in her. There's nought but the vire of God's hell ez 
can burn out that. 

Joan. 
Thank the Lord, therevore. 

Paget. 

The fools ! 

Tib. 
A-burnin', and a-burnin', and a-makin' o' volk madder 
and madder j but tek thou my word vor't, Joan, — and 
I bean't wrong not twice i' ten year — the burnin' o' 
the owld archbishop 'ill burn the Pwoap out o' this 'ere 
land vor iver and iver. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 225 

Howard. 

Out of the church, you brace of cursed crones, 

Or I will have you duck'd. {Women hurry out.) Said 

I not right ? 
For how should reverend prelate or throned prince 
Brook for an hour such brute malignity } 
Ah, what an acrid wine has Luther brew'd ! 

Paget. 

Pooh, pooh, my Lord ! poor garrulous country-wives. 
Buy you their cheeses, and they'll side with you ; 
You cannot judge the liquor from the lees. 

Howard. 
I think that in some sort we may. But see, 

£7der Peters. 

Peters, my gentleman, an honest Catholic, 
Who follow'd with the crowd to Cranmer's fire. 
One that would neither misreport nor lie. 
Not to gain paradise : no, nor if the Pope 
Charged him to do it — he is white as death. 
Peters, how pale you look ! you bring the smoke 
Of Cranmer's burning with you. 
15 



226 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Peters. 

Twice or thrice 
The smoke of Cranmer's burning wrapt me round. 

Howard. 

Peters, you know me Catholic, but English. 
Did he die bravely ? Tell me that, or leave 
All else untold. 

Peters. 
My Lord, he died most bravely. 

Howard. 
Then tell me all. 

Paget. 

Ay, Master Peters, tell us. 

Peters. 

You saw him how he past among the crowd ; 
And ever as he walked the Spanish friars 
Still plied him with entreaty and reproach : 
But Cranmer, as the helmsman at the helm 
Steers, ever looking to the happy haven 
Where he shall rest at night, moved to his death ; 



SCENE- III.] Q2teen Alary. 227 

And I could see that many silent hands 

Came from the crowd and met his own ] and thus, 

When we had come where Ridley burnt with Latimer, 

He, with a cheerful smile, as one whose mind 

Is all made up, in haste put off the rags 

They had mock'd his misery with, and all in white. 

His long white beard, which he had never shaven 

Since Henry's death, do^^Ti-s weeping to the chain, 

Wherewith they bound him to the stake, he stood, 

More like an ancient father of the Church, 

Than heretic of these times j and still the friars 

Plied him, but Cranmer only shook his head, 

Or answer'd them in smiling negatives j 

Whereat Lord Williams gave a sudden cry : — 

" Make short ! make short ! " and so they lit the wood 

Then Cranmer lifted his left hand to heaven, 

And thrust-his right into the bitter flame ; 

And crj'ing, in his deep voice, more than once, 

" This hath offended — this unworthy hand ! " 

So held it till it all was burn'd, before 

The flame had reach'd his body j I stood near — 

Mark'd him — he never uttered moan of pain : 

He never stirr'd or writhed, but, like a statue, 

Unmo\dng in the greatness of the flame, 

Gave up the ghost ; and so past martyr-like — 

Mart}T I may not call him — past — but whither ? 



2 28 Queen Mary. [act iv. 

Paget. 
To purgatory, man, to purgatory. 

Peters. 
Nay, but, my Lord, he denied purgatory. 

Paget. ' 

Why then to heaven, and God ha' mercy on him, 

Howard. 

Paget, despite his fearful heresies, 

I loved the man, and needs must moan for him ; 

O Cranmer ! 

Paget. 

But your moan is useless now : 
Come out, my Lord, it is a world of fools. [Exeunt 



Queen Mary. 229 



ACT V. 

SCENE I. — LONDON. HALL IN THE PALACE. 

Queen, Sir Nicholas Heath. 

Heath. 
Madam, 

I do assure you, that it must be look'd to : 

Calais is but ill-garrison'd, in Guisnes 

Are scarce two hundred men, and the French fleet 

Rule in the narrow seas. It must be look'd to, 

If war should fall between yourself and France ; 

Or you will lose your Calais. 

Mary. 

It shall be look'd to; 
I wish you a good-morning, good Sir Nicholas : 
Here is the King. {Exit Heath* 

Enter Philip. 
Philip. 

Sir Nicholas tells you true, 
And you must look to Calais when I go. 



230 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Mary. 

Go ! must you go, indeed — again — so soon ? 
Why, nature's licensed vagabond, the swallow, 
That might live always in the sun's warm heart. 
Stays longer here in our poor north than you : — 
Knows where he nested — ever comes again. 

Philip. 
And, Madam, so shall I. 

Mary. 

O, will you ? will you ? 
I am faint with fear that you will come no more. 

PiCILIP. 

Ay, ay ; but many voices call me hence. 

Mary. 

« 

Voices — I hear unhappy rumors — nay, 
I say not, I believe. What voices call you 
Dearer than mine that should be dearest to you ? 
Alas, my Lord ! what voices and how many ? 

Philip. 

The voices of Castile and Aragon, 
Granada, Naples, Sicily, and Milan, — 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 231 

The voices of Franche-Comte, and the Netherlands, 
The voices of Peru and Mexico, 
Tunis, and Oran, and the Philippines, 
And all the fair spice-islands of the East. 

Mary (admiringly). 

You are the mightiest monarch upon earth, 

I but a little Queen \ and so, indeed. 

Need you the more ; and wherefore could you not 

Helm the huge vessel of your state, my liege, 

Here, by the side of her who loves you most ? 

Philip. 

No, Madam, no ! a candle in the sun 

Is all but smoke — a star beside the moon 

Is all but lost ; your people will not crown me — 

Your people are as cheerless as your clime ; 

Hate me and mine : witness the brawls, the gibbets. 

Here swings a Spaniard — there an Englishman j 

The peoples are unlike as their complexion ; 

Yet will I be your swallow and return — 

But now I cannot bide. 

Mary. 

Not to help mel 
They hate me also for my love to you, 



232 Queen Mary. [act v. 

My Philip j and these judgments on the land — 
Harvestless autumns, horrible agues, plague — 



Philip. 

The blood and sweat of heretics at the stake 
Is God's best dew upon the barren field. 
Burn more ! 

Mary. 
I will, I will j and you will stay. 

Philip. 

Have I not said ? Madam, I came to sue 
Your Council and yourself to declare war. 

Mary. 
Sir, there are many English in your ranks 
To help your battle. 

Philip. 
So far, good. I say 
I came to sue your Council and yourself 
To declare war against the King of France. 



SCENE I.} Queen Mary. 233 

Mary. 
Not to see me ? 

Philip. 
Ay, Madam, to see you. 
Unalterably and pesteringly fond ! \Aside 

But, soon or late you must have war with France j 
King Henry warms your traitors at his hearth. 
Carew is there, and Thomas Stafford there. 
Courtenay, belike — 

Mary. 
A fool and featherhead ! 

Philip. 

Ay, but they use his name. In brief, this Henry 

Stirs up your land against you to the intent 

That you may lose your English heritage. 

And then, your Scottish namesake marr}dng 

The Dauphin, he would weld France, England, Scotland, 

Into one sword to hack at Spain and me. 

Mary. 

And yet the Pope is now colleagued with France ; 
You make your wars upon him down in Italy : — 
Philip, can that be well ? ^ 



2 34 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Philip. 

Content you, Madam ; 
You must abide my judgment, and my father's, 
Who deems it a most just and holy war. 
The Pope would cast the Spaniard out of Naples : 
He calls us worse than Jews, Moors, Saracens. 
The Pope has pushed his horns beyond his mitre — 
Beyond his province. Now, 
Duke Alva will but touch him on the horns, 
And he withdraws ; and of his holy head — 
For Alva is true son of the true church — 
No hair is harmed. Will you not help me here ? 

Mary. 

Alas ! the Council will not hear of war. 

They say your wars are not the wars of England. 

They will not lay more taxes on a land 

So hunger-nipt and wretched ; and you know 

The crown is poor. We have given the church-lands 

back: 
The nobles would not ; nay, they clapt their hands 
Upon their swords when ask'd ; and therefore God 
Is hard upon the people. What's to be done ? 
Sir, I will move them in your cause again. 
And we will raise us loans and subsidies 



SCENE I.] Qtieen Mary. 235 

Among the merchants ; and Sir Thomas Gresham 
Will aid us. There is Antwerp and the Jews. 



Madam, my thanks. 



Philip. 

Mary. 
And you will stay your going ? 



Philip. 

And further to discourage and lay lame 

The plots of France, altho' you love her not, 

You must proclaim Elizabeth your heir. 

She stands between you and the Queen of Scots. 

Mary. 
The Queen of Scots at least is Catholic. 

Philip. 

Ay, Madam, Catholic ; but I will not have 
The King of France the King of England too. 

Mary. 

But she's a heretic, and, when I am gone, 
Brings the new learning back. 



236 Queen Mary. [act v 

Philip. 

It must be done. 
You must proclaim Elizabeth your heir. 

Mary. 

Then it is done ; but you will stay your going 
Somewhat beyond your settled purpose ? 

Philip. 

No! 

Mary. 
What, not one day ? 

Philip. 

You beat upon the rock. 

Mary. 
And I am broken there. 

Philip. 

Is this a place 
To wail in, Madam ? what ! a public hall. 
Go in, I pray you. 



SCENE I.] Queen Mary. 237 

Mary. 
Do not seem so changed. 
Say go ; but only say it lovingly. 

Philip. 

You do mistake. I am not one to change. 
I never loved you more. 

Mary. 

Sire, I obey you. 
Come quickly. 

Philip. 
Ay. \Exit Mary, 

Enter Count de Feria. 

Feria {aside). 

The Queen in tears. 

Philip. 

Feria ! 
Hast thou riot mark'd — come closer to mine ear — 
How doubly aged this Queen of ours hath grown 
Since she lost hope of bearing us a child ? 

Feria. 
Sire, if your Grace hath mark'd it, so have I. 



238 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Philip. 

Hast thou not likewise marked Elizabeth^ 
How fair and royal — like a Queen, indeed ? 

Feria. 

Allow me the same answer as before — 

That if your Grace hath mark'd her, so have I. 

Philip. 

Good, now j methinks my Queen is like enough 
To leave me by and by. 

Feria. 
To leave you, sire ? 

Philip. 

I mean not like to live. Elizabeth — 
To Philibert of Savoy, as you know, 
We meant to wed her; but I am not sure 
She will not serve me better — so my Queen 
Would leave me — as — my wife. 

Feria. 

Sire, even sa 

Philip. 
She will not have Prince Philibert of Savoy. 



SCENE I.J Queen Mary. 239 

Feria. 
No, sire. 

Philip. 
I have to pray you, some odd time, 
To sound the Princess carelessly on this j 
Not as from me, but as your fantasy ; 
And tell me how she takes it. 

Feria 

Sire, I will. 

Philip. 
I am not certain but that Philibert 
Shall be the man ; and I shall urge his suit 
Upon the Queen, because I am not certain : 
You understand, Feria. 

Feria. 
Sire, I do. 

Philip. 

And if you be not secret in this inatter, 
You understand me there, too ? 

Feria. 

Sire, I do. 



240 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Philip. 
You must be sweet and supple, like a Frenchman. 
She is none of those who loathe the honeycomb. 

\Exit Feria, 

Enter Renard. 

Renard. 
My liege, I bring you goodly tidings. 

Philip. 

Well. 

Renard. 
There will be war with France, at last, my liege ; 
Sir Thomas Stafford, a bull-headed ass. 
Sailing from France, with thirty Englishmen, 
Hath taken Scarboro' Castle, north of York ; 
Proclaims himself protector, and affirms 
The Queen has forfeited her right to reign 
By marriage with an alien — other things 
As idle ; a weak Wyatt ! Little doubt 
This buzz will soon be silenced ! but the Council 
(I have talked with some already) are for war. 
This is the fifth conspiracy hatched in France ; 
They show their teeth upon it ; and your Grace, 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 241 

So you will take advice of mine, should stay 
Yet for a while, to shape and guide the event. 

Philip. 
Good ! Renard, I will stay then. 

Renard. 

Also, sire. 
Might I not say — to please your wife, the Queen ? 

Philip. 
Ay, Renard, if you care to put it so. 

\Exeunt 



SCENE II. — A ROOM IN THE PALACE. 

Mary and Cardinal Pole. 
Lady Clarence and Alice i7i the background. 

Mary. 
Reginald Pole, what news hath plagued thy heart ? 
What makes thy favor like the bloodless head 
Fall'n on the block, and held up by the hair ? 
Philip ? — 

16 



242 Queen Mary. [act / 

Pole. 

No, Philip is as warm in life 
As ever. 

Mary. 

Ay, and then as cold as ever. 
Is Calais taken ? 

Pole. 

Cousin, there hath chanced 
A sharper harm to England and to Rome, 
Than Calais taken. Julius the Third 
Was ever just, and mild, and fatherlike ; 
But this new Pope Caraffa, Paul the Fourth, 
Not only reft me of that legateship 
Which Julius gave me, and the legateship 
Annex'd to Canterbury — nay, but worse — 
And yet I must obey the holy father. 
And so must you, good cousin ; — worse than all, 
A passing bell tolFd in a dying ear — 
He hath cited me to Rome, for heresy. 
Before his Inquisition. 

Mary. 

I knew it, cousin, 
But held from you all papers sent by Rome, 



SCENE il] Queen Mary. 243 

That you might rest among us, till the Pope, 
To compass which I wrote myself to Rome, 
Reversed his doom, and that you might not seem 
To disobey his Holiness. 

Pole. 

He hates Philip ; 
He is all Italian, and he hates the Spaniard ; 
He cannot dream that / advised the war ; 
He strikes thro' me at Philip and yourself. 
Nay, but I know it of old, he hates me too ; 
So brands me in the stare of Christendom 
A heretic ! 

Now, even now, when bow'd before my time, 
The house half-ruin'd ere the lease be out ; 
When I should guide the Church in peace at home, 
After my twenty years of banishment, 
And all my lifelong labor to uphold 
The primacy — a heretic. Long ago. 
When I was ruler in the patrimony, 
I was too lenient to the Lutheran, 
And I and learned friends among ourselves 
Would freely canvass certain Lutheranisms. 
What then, he knew I was no Lutheran. 
A heretic ! 
He drew this shaft against me to the head, 



244 Queen Mary. [act v 

When it was thought I might be chosen Pope, 
But then withdrew it. In full consistory, 
When I was made Archbishop, he approved me. 
And how should he have sent me Legate hither, 
Deeming me heretic ? and what heresy since ? 
But he was evermore mine enemy. 
And hates the Spaniard — fiery-choleric, 
A drinker of black, strong, volcanic wines. 
That ever make him fierier. I, a heretic ! 
Your Highness knows that in pursuing heresy 
I have gone beyond your late Lord Chancellor, — 
He cried Enough ! enough ! before his death. — 
Gone beyond him and mine own natural man 
(It was God's cause) ; so far they call me now. 
The scourge and butcher of their English church 

Mary. 
Have courage, your reward is Heaven itself. 

Pole. 

They groan amen \ they swarm into the fire 

Like flies — for what ? no dogma. They know nothing 

They bum for nothing. 

Mary. 
You have done your best. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 2^5 

Pole. 

Have done my best, and as a faithful son. 

That all day long hath wrought his father's work, 

When back he comes at evening hath the door 

Shut on him by the father whom he loved, 

His early follies cast into his teeth, 

And the poor son turn'd cut into the street 

To sleep, to die — I shall die of it, cousin. 

Mary. 

I pray you be not so disconsolate ; 

I still will do mine utmost with the Pope. 

Poor cousin. 

Have I not been the fast friend of your life 

Since mine began, and it was thought we two 

Might make one flesh, and cleave unto each other 

As man and wife. 

Pole. 
Ah, cousin, I remember 
How I would dandle you upon my knee 
At lisping-age. I watch'd you dancing once 
With your huge father ; he look'd the Great Harry, 
You but his cockboat ; prettily you did it. 
And innocently. No — we were not made 



246 Queen Mary. [act v. 

One flesh in happiness, no happiness here ; 
But now we are made one flesh in misery ; 
Our bridemaids are not lovely — Disappointment, 
Ingratitude, Injustice, Evil-tongue, 
Labor-in-vain. 

Mary. 

Surely, not all in vain. 
Peace, cousin, peace ! I am sad at heart myself. 

Pole. 

Our altar is a mound of dead men's clay, 
Dug from the grave that yawns for us beyond ; 
And there is one Death stands behind the Groom, 
And there is one Death stands behind the Bride — 

Mary. 
Have you been looking at the " Dance of Death " ? 

Pole. 

No ; but these libellous papers which I found 
Strewn in your palace. Look you here — the Pope 
Pointing at me with " Pole, the heretic. 
Thou hast burnt others, do thou burn thyself, 
Or I will burn thee " and this other ; see ! — 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 247 

"We pray continually for the death 

Of our accursed Queen and Cardinal Pole." 

This last — I dare not read it her. \Aside 

Mary. 

Away ! 

Why do you bring me these ? 
I thought you knew me better. I never read, 
I tear them ; they come back upon my dreams. 
The hands that write them should be burnt clean off 
As Cranmer's, and the fiends that utter them 
Tongue-torn with pincers, lash'd to death, or lie 
Famishing in black cells, while famish'd rats 
Eat them alive. Why do they bring me these ? 
Do you mean to drive me mad 1 

Pole. 

I had forgotten 

How these poor libels trouble you. Your pardon 
Sweet cousin, and farewell ! " O bubble world. 
Whose colors in a moment break and fly ! " 
Why, who said that ? I know not — true enough ! 

\Puts up the papers^ all but the last^ which falls 
Exit Pole. 



248 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Alice. 

If Cranmer's spirit were a mocking one, 

And heard these two, there might be sport for him. 

\Aside, 

Mary. 

Clarence, they hate me ; even while I speak 
There lurks a silent dagger, listening 
In some dark closet, some long gallery, drawn. 
And panting for my blood as I go by. 

Lady Clarence. 

Nay, Madam, there be loyal papers too, 
And I have often found them. 

Mary. 

Find me one ! 

Lady Clarence. 

Ay, Madam ; but Sir Nicholas Heath, the Chancellor, 
Would see your Highness. 

Mary. 
Wherefore should I see him ? 



SCENE II.] Quee7i Mary. 249 

Lady Clarence. 
Well, Madam, be may bring you news from Philip. 

Mary. 
So, Clarence. 

Lady Clarence. 

Let me first put up your hair ; 
It tumbles all abroad. 

Mary. 

And the gray dawn 
Of an old age that never will be mine 
Is all the clearer seen. No, no ; what matters t 
Forlorn I am, and let me look forlorn. 

Enter Sir Nicholas Heath. 

Heath. 
I bring your Majesty such grievous news 
I grieve to bring it. Madam, Calais is taken. 

Mary. 

What traitor spoke ? Here, let my cousin Pole 
Seize him and burn him for a Lutheran. 



250 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Heath. 
Her Highness is unwell. I will retire. 

Lady Clarence. 
Madam, your chancellor, Sir Nicholas Heath. 

Mary. 

Sir Nicholas ? I am stunn'd — Nicholas Heath ? 
Methought some traitor smote me on the head. 
What said you, my good Lord, that our brave English 
Had sallied out from Calais and driven back 
The Frenchmen from their trenches ? 

Heath. 

Alas ! no. 
That gateway to the mainland over which 
Our flag hath floated for two hundred years 
Is France again. 

Mary. 

So ; but it is not lost — 
Not yet. Send out : let England as of old 
Rise lionlike, strike hard and deep into 
The prey they are rending from her — ay, and rend 
The renders too. Send out, send out, and make 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 251 

Musters in all the counties ; gather all 

From sixteen years to sixty j collect the fleet ; 

Let every craft that carries sail and gun 

Steer toward Calais. Guisnes is not taken yet ? 

Heath. 
(juisnes is not taken yet, 

Mary. 
There yet is hope. 

Heath. 

Ah, Madam, but your people are so cold ; 
I do much fear that England will not care. 
Methinks there is no manhood left among us. 

Mary. 

Send out j I am too weak to stir abroad : 
Tell my mind to the Council — to the Parliament : 
Proclaim it to the winds. Thou art cold thyself 
To babble of their coldness. O would I were 
My father for an hour ! Away now — quick ! 

\Exit Heath 
I hoped I had served God with all my might ! 
It seems I have not. Ah ! much heresy 



252 Queen Mary. [act ^. 

Sheltered in Calais. Saints, I have rebuilt 

Your shrines, set up your broken images ; 

Be comfortable to me. Suffer not 

That my brief reign in England be defamed 

Thro' all her angry chronicles hereafter 

By loss of Calais. Grant me Calais. Philip, 

We have made war upon the Holy Father 

All for your sake : what good could come of that ? 

Lady Clarence* 
No, Madam, not against the Holy Father ; 
You did but help King Philip's war with France. 
Your troops were never down in Italy. 

Mary. 

I am a byword. Heretic and rebel 

Point at me and make merry. Philip gone ! 

And Calais gone ! Time that I were gone too ! 

Lady Clarence. 

Nay, if the fetid gutter had a voice 
And cried I was not clean, what should I care } 
Or you, for heretic cries ? And I believe, 
Spite of your melancholy Sir Nicholas, 
Your England is as loyal as myself. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 253 

Mary {seeing the paper drop t by Pole). 

There, there ! another paper ! Said you not 
Many of these were loyal ? Shall I try 
If this be one of such ? 

Lady Clarence. 

Let it be, let it be. 
God pardon me ! I have never yet found one. [Aside 

Mary (reads), 

" Your people hate you as your husband hates you,'' 
Clarence, Clarence, what have I done ? what sin 
Beyond all grace, all pardon ? Mother of God, 
Thou knowest never woman meant so well, 
And fared so ill in this disastrous world. 
My people hate me and desire my death. 

Lady Clarence. 
No, Madam, no. 

Mary. 
My husband hates me, and desires my death. 

Lady Clarence. 
No, Madam ; these are libels. 

Mary. 
I hate myself, and I desire my death. 



254 Queen Mary, [act v 

Lady Clarence. 
Long live your Majesty ! Shall Alice sing you 
One of her pleasant songs ? Alice, my child, 
Bring us your lute (Alice goes). They say the gloom ol 

Saul 
Was lightened by young David's harp. 

Mary. 

Too young ! 

And never knew a Philip {re-enter Alice). Give me the 

lute. 

He hates me ! 

{She sings,) 

Hapless doom of woman happy in betrothing ! 

Beauty passes like a breath and love is lost in loathing : 

Low, my lute ; speak low, my lute, but say the world is nothing — 

Low, lute, low ! 
Love will hover round the flowers when they first awaken ; 
Love will fly the fallen leaf, and not be overtaken ; 
Low, my lute ! oh low, my lute ! we fade and are forsaken — 
Low, dear lute, low I 

Take it away ! not low enough for me ! 

Alice. 
Your Grace hath a low voice. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 255 

Mary. 

How dare you say it ? 
Even for that he hates me. A low voice 
Lost in a wilderness where none can hear ! 
A voice of shipwreck on a shoreless sea ! 
A low voice from the dust and from the grave {sitting 

on the ground). 
There, am I low enough now? 

Alice. 

Good Lord ! how grim and ghastly looks her Grace, 
With both her knees drawn upward to her chin. 
There was an old-world tomb beside my father's, 
And this was open'd, and the dead were found 
Sitting, and in this fashion ; she looks a corpse. 

Enter Lady Magdalen Dacres. 

Lady Magdalen. 

Madam, the Count de Feria waits without, 
In hopes to see your Highness. 

Lady Clarence (J>ointi?ig to Mary). 

Wait he must — 
Her trance again. She neither sees nor hears, 
And may not speak for hours. 



256 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Lady Magdalen. 

Unhappiest 
Of Queens and wives and women. 

Alice {in the foreground with Lady Magdalen). 

And all along 
Of Philip. 

Lady Magdalen. 

Not so loud ! Our Clarence there 
Sees ever such an aureole round the Queen, 
It gilds the greatest wronger of her peace, 
Who stands the nearest to her, 

Alice. 

Ay, this Philip ; 
I used to love the Queen with all my heart — 
God help me, but methinks I love her less 
For such a dotage upon such a man. 
I would I were as tall and strong as you. 

Lady Magdalen. 
I seem half-shamed at times to be so tall. 

Alice. 
You are the stateliest deer in all the herd — 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 257 

Beyond his aim — but I am small and scandalous, 
And love to hear bad tales of Philip. 

Lady Magdalen. 

Why? 
I never heard him utter worse of you 
Than that you were low-statured. 

Alice. 

Does he think 
Low stature is low nature, or all women's 
Low as his own ? 

Lady Magdalen. 

There you strike in the nail. 
This coarseness is a want of fantasy. 
It is the low man thinks the woman low ; 
Sin is too dull to see beyond himself, 

Alice. 

Ah, Magdalen, sin is bold as well as duli. 
How dared he ? 

Lady Magdalen. 

Stupid soldiers oft are bold. 
Poor lads, they see not what the general sees. 



258 Queen Mary. [act v. 

A risk of utter ruin. I am not 
Beyond his aim, or was not. 

Alice. 

Who ? Not you ? 

Tell, tell me : save my credit with myself. 

Lady Magdalen. 
I never breathed it to a bird in the eaves, 
Would not for all the stars and maiden moon 
Our drooping Queen should know ! In Hampton Court 
My window look'd upon the corridor ; 
And I was robing ; — this poor throat of mine, 
Barer than I should wish a man to see it, — 
When he we speak of drove the window back. 
And, like a thief, push'd in his royal hand j 
But by God's providence a good stout staff 
Lay near me \ and you know me strong of arm ; 
I do believe I lamed his Majesty's 
For a day or two, tho', give the Devil his due, 
I never found he bore me any spite. 

Alice. 

I would she could have wedded that poor youth, 
My Lord of Devon — light enough, God knows. 
And mixt with Wyatt's rising — and the boy 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 259 

Not out of him — but neither cold, coarse, cruel, ^ 
And more than all — no Spaniard. 

Lady Clarence. 

Not so loud. 
Lord Devon, girls ! what are you whispering here ? 

Alice. 

Probing an old state-secret — how it chanced 
That this young Earl was sent on foreign travel, 
Not lost his head. 

Lady Clarence. 
There was no proof against him. 

Alice. 

Nay, Madam ; did not Gardiner intercept 
A letter which the Count de Noailles wrote. 
To that dead traitor, Wyatt, with full proof 
Of Courtenay's treason ? What became of that ? 

Lady Clarence. 
Some say that Gardiner, out of love for him. 
Burnt it, and some relate that it was lost 
When Wyatt sacked the Chancellor's house in South- 

wark. 
LfCt dead things rest. 



26o Queen Mary. [act v. 



Alice.. 
Ay, and with him who died 



Alone in Italy. 



Lady Clarence. 
Much changed, I hear, 
Had put off levity and put graveness on. 
The foreign courts report him in his manner 
Noble as his young person and old shield. 
It might be so — but all is over now ; 
He caught a chill in the lagoons of Venice, 
And died in Padua. 

Mary {looking up suddenly). 

Died in the true faith ? 

Lady Clarence. 
Ay, Madam, happily. 

Mary. 
Happier he than I. 

Lady Magdalen. 

It seems her Highness hath awaken'd. Think you 
That I might dare to tell her that the Count — 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 261 

Mary. 

I will see no man hence forevermore, 
Saving my confessor and my cousin Pole, 

Lady Magdalen. 
It is the Count de Feria, my dear lady. 



Mary. 

What Count? 

Lady Magdalen. 

The Count de Feria, from his Majesty 
King Philip. 

Mary. 

Philip ! quick ! loop up my hair ! 
Throw cushions on that seat, and make it throne-like. 
Arrange my dress — the gorgeous Indian shawl 
That Philip brought me in our happy days ! — 
That covers all. So — am I somewhat Queenlike, 
Bride of the mightiest sovereign upon earth 1 

Lady Clarence. 
Ay, so your Grace would bide a moment yet. 



262 Queen Mary. [act v, 

Mary. 
No, no, he brings a letter. I may die 
Before I read it. Let me see him at once. 

Enter Count de Feria {kneels). 

Feria. 

]. trust your Grace is well, {aside) How her hand 
burns. 

Mary. 

I am not well, but it will better me, 

Sir Count, to read the letter which you bring. 

Feria. 
Madam, I bring no letter. 

Mary. 

How ! no letter } 

Feria. 
His Highness is so vex'd with strange affairs — 

Mary. 
That his own wdfe is no affair of his. 



SCENE II.] Queen Mary. 263 

Feria. 

Nay, Madam, nay ! he sends his veriest love, 
And says, he will come quickly. 

Mary. ^ 

Doth he, indeed ? 
You, sir, do you remember what you said 
When last you came to England ? 

Feria. 

Madam, I brought 
My King's congratulations ; it was hoped 
Your Highness was once more in happy state 
To give him an heir male. 

Mary. 

Sir, you said more ; 
You said he would come quickly. I had horses 
On all the road from Dover, day and night ; 
On all the road from Har^vich, night and day ; 
But the child came not, and the husband came not ; 
And yet he will come quickly. . . . Thou hast learnt 
Thy lesson, and I mine. There is no need 
For Philip so to shame himself again. 
Return, 
And tell him that I know he comes no more. 



264 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Tell him at last I know his love is dead, 
And that I am in state to bring forth death — 
Thou art commissioned to Elizabeth, 
And not to me ! 

Feria. 

Mere compliments and wishes, 
But shall I take some message from your Grace ? 

Mary. 
Tell her to come and close my dying eyes. 
And wear my crown, and dance upon my grave. 

Feria. 

Then I may say your Grace will see your sister ? 
Your Grace is too low-spirited. Air and sunshine. 
I would we had you, Madam, in our warm Spain. 
You droop in your dim London. 

Mary. 

Have him away, 
I sicken of his readiness. 

Lady Clarence. 

My Lord Count, 
Her Highness is too ill for colloquy. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 265 

Feria (kneels j and kisses her hand). 

I wish her Highness better, {aside) How her hand burns. 

\Exeunt, 



SCENE HI. — A HOUSE NEAR LONDON. 

Elizabeth, Steward of the Household, Attendants. 

Elizabeth". 
There's half an angel wrong'd in your account ; 
Methinks I am all angel, that I bear it 
Without more ruffling. Cast it o'er again. 

Steward. 
I were whole devil if I wrong'd you Madam. 

{Exit Steward, 

Attendant. 
The Count de Feria, from the King of Spain. 

Elizabeth. 

Ah ! — let him enter. Nay, you need not go : 

\To her Ladies. 
Remain within the chamber, but apart. 
Well have no private conference-. Welcome to England J 



266 Queen Mary. [act 7. 

Enter Feria. 
Fair island star. 

Elizabeth. 
I shine ! What else, Sir Count ? 

Feria. 

As far as France, and into Philip's heart. 
My King would know if you be fairly served. 
And lodged, and treated. 

Elizabeth. 

You see the lodging, sir, 
I am well-served, and am in every thing 
Most loyal and most grateful to the Queen. 

Feria. 
You should be grateful to my master, too, 
He spoke of this ; and unto him you owe 
That Mary hath acknowledged you her heir, 

Elizabeth. 

No, not to her nor him ; but to the people. 
Who know my right, and love me, as I love 
The people ! whom God aid ! 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 26*7 

Feria. 

You will be Queen, 
And, were I Philip — 

Elizabeth. 

Wherefore pause you — what ? 

Feria. 

Nay, but I speak from mine own self, not him : 
Your royal sister cannot last ; your hand 
Will be much coveted ! What a delicate one ! 
Our Spanish ladies have none such — and there, 
Were you in Spain, this fine fair gossamer gold — 
Like sun-gilt breathings on a frosty dawn — 
That hovers round your shoulder — 

Elizabeth. 

Is it so fine ? 
Troth, some have said so. 

Feria. 

— would be deemed a miracle 

Elizabeth. 
Your Philip hath gold hair and golden beard. 
There must be ladies many with hair like mine. 



268 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Feria. 

Some few of Gothic blood have golden hair, 
But none like yours. 

Elizabeth. 

I am happy you approve it. 

Feria. 
But as to Philip and your Grace — consider, — 
If such a one as you should match with Spain, 
What hinders but that Spain and England join'd, 
Should make the mightiest empire earth has kno^Ti. 
Spain would be England on her seas, and England 
Mistress of the Indies. 

Elizabeth. 

It may chance, that England 
Will be the mistress of the Indies yet, 
Without the help of Spain. 

Feria. 

Impossible ; 
Except you put Spain down. 
Wide of the mark ev'n for a madman's dream. 



SCENE III.] Queen Mary. 269 

Elizabeth. 

Perhaps ; but we have seamen. Count de Feria, 
I take it that the King hath spoken to you j 
But is Don Carlos such a goodly match ? 

Feria. 
Don Carlos, Madam, is but twelve years old. 

Elizabeth. 

Ay, tell the King that I will muse upon it ; 
He is my good friend, and I would keep him so ; 
But — he would have me Catholic of Rome, 
And that I scarce can be ; and, sir, till now 
My sister^s marriage, and my father's marriages, 
Make me full fain to live and die a maid. 
But I am much beholden to your King. 
Have you aught else to tell me t 

Feria. 

Nothing, Madam, 
Save that methought I gather'd from the Queen 
That she would see your Grace before she — died. 

Elizabeth. 

God's death ! and wherefore spake you not before ? 
We dally with our lazy moments here, -• 



270 Qtteen Mary. [act v. 

And hers are numbered. Horses there, without ! 
I am much beholden to the King, your master. 
Why did you keep me prating ? Horses, there ! 

\_Exit Elizabeth, 6-r. 

Feria. 

So from a clear sky falls the thunderbolt ! 
Don Carlos ? Madam, if you marry Philip, 
Then I and he will snaffle your " God's death,'* 
And break your paces in, and make you tame j 
God's deajth, forsooth — you do not know King Philip. 

\Exit, 



SCENE IV. — LONDON. BEFORE THE PALACE. 

A light burning within. Voices of the night passing. 

First. 
Is not yon light in the Queen's chamber ? 

Second. 

Ay, 

They say she's dying. 

First. 
So is Cardinal Pole. 



SCENE IV.] Qtteen Mary. 271 

May the great angels join their wings, and make 
Down for their heads to heaven ? 

Second. 

Amen. Come on. 
\Exeu. it 

Two Others. 
First. 
There's the Queen's light. I hear she cannot live. 

Second. 

God curse her and her Legate ! Gardiner burns 
Already ; but to pay them full in kind, 
The hottest hold in all the devil's den 
Were but a sort of winter ; sir, in Guernsey, 
I watch'd a woman burn ; and in her agony 
The mother came upon her — a child was born — 
And, sir, they hurl'd it back into the fire, 
That, being but baptized in fire, the babe 
Might be in fire forever. Ah, good neighbor. 
There should be something fierier than fire 
To yield them their deserts. 

First. 

Amen to all 
You wish, and further. 



272 Quee7i Mary. [act v. 

A Third Voice. 

Deserts ! Amen to what ? Whose deserts ? Yours ? 
You have a gold ring on your finger, and soft raiment 
about your body ; and is not the woman up yonder 
sleeping after all she has done, in peace and quietness, 
on a soft bed, in a closed room, with light, fire, ph3'sic, 
tendance ; and I have seen the true men of Christ lying 
famine-dead by scores, and under no ceiling but the 
cloud that wept on them, not for them. 

First. 

Friend, tho' so late, it is not safe to preach. 

You had best go home. What are you ? ^ 

Third. 

What am I ? One who cries continually with sweat 
and tears to the Lord God that it would please Him 
out of His infinite love to break down all kingship and 
queenship, all priesthood and prelacy j to cancel and 
abolish all bonds of human allegiance, all the magis- 
tracy, all the nobles, and all the wealthy \ and to send 
us again, according to his promise, the one King, the 
Christ, and all things in common, as in the day of the 
first church, when Christ Jesus was King. 

First. 
If ever I heard a madman, — let's away ! 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 273 

Why, you long-winded — Sir, you go beyond me. 
I pride myself on being moderate. 
Good-night ! Go home. Besides, you curse so loud, 
The watch will hear you. Get you home at once. 

\Exeunt, 



SCENE v. — LONDON. A ROOM IN THE 
PALACE. 

A Gallery on one side. The moonlight streaming through 
a range of windows 07t the wall opposite, Mary, 
Lady Clarence, Lady Magdalen Dacres, Alice. 
Qv^^^ pacing the Gallery, A writing-table in front. 
Queen comes to the table and writes and goes again^ 
pacing the Gallery, 

Lady Clarence. 
Mine eyes are dim : what hath she written ? read. 

Alice. 
" I am dying, Philip ; come to me." 

Lady Magdalen. 

There — up and down, poor lady, up and down. 
18 



274 Queen Mary. [act v, 

Alice. 

And how her shadow crosses one by one 

The moonlight casements pattern'd on the wall, 

Following her like her sorrow. She turns again. 

[Queen sits and writes^ and goes again. 

Lady Clarence. 
What hath she written now ? 

Alice. 
Nothing ; but " come, come, come," and all awry, 
And blotted by her tears. This cannot last. 

[Queen returns. 

Mary. 

I whistle to the bird has broken cage. 

And all in vain. [^Sitting down, 

Calais gone — Guisnes gone, too — and Philip gone 1 

Lady Clarence. 
Dear Madam, Philip is but at the wars ; 
I cannot doubt but that he comes again ; 
And he is with you in a measure still. 
I never looked upon so fair a likeness 
As your great King in armor there, his hand 
Upon his helmet. 

[Pointing to the portrait of Philip on the wall. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 275 

Mary. 

Doth he not look noble ? 
I had heard of him in battle over seas, 
And I would have my warrior all in arms. 
He said it was not courtly to stand helmeted 
Before the Queen. He had his gracious moment 
Altho' you'll not believe me. How he smiles 
As if he loved me yet ! 

Lady Clarence. 

And so he does. 

Mary. 

He never loved me — nay, he could not love me. 

It was his father's policy against France. 

I am eleven years older than he, 

Poor boy. [ Weeps, 

Alice. 

That was a lusty boy of twenty-seven ; \Asidp^. 

Poor enough in God's grace ! 

Mary. 

— And all in vain 1 
The Queen of Scots is married to the Dauphin, 
And Charles, the lord of this low world is gone ; 



276 Qtteen Mary. [act v. 

And all his wars and wisdoms past away ; 
And in a moment I shall follow him. 

Lady Clarence. 
Nay, dearest Lady, see your good physician. 

Mary. 

Drugs — but he knows they cannot help me — says 
That rest is all — tells me I must not think — 
That I must rest — I shall rest by and by. 
Catch the wild cat, cage him, and when he springs 
And maims himself against the bars, say " rest : " 
Why, you must kill him if you would have him rest — 
Dead or alive you cannot make him happy. 

Lady Clarence. 

Your Majesty has lived so pure a life. 

And done such mighty things by Holy Church, 

I trust that God will make you happy yet. 

Mary. 

What is the strange thing happiness "> Sit down here : 
Tell me thine happiest hour. 

Lady Clarence. 

I will, if that 
May make your Grace forget yourself a little. 



SCENE v.] Q2teen Mary. 277 

There runs a shallow brook across our field 
For twenty miles, where the black crow flies five, 
And doth so bound and babble all the way 
As if itself were happy. It was May-time, 
And I was walking with the man I loved. 
I loved him, but I thought I was not loved. 
And both were silent, letting the wild brook 
Speak for us — till he stooped and gather'd one 
From out a bed of thick forget-me-nots, 
Looked hard and sweet at me, and gave it me, 
I took it, tho' I did not know I took it, 
And put it in my bosom, and all at once 
I felt his arms about me, and his lips — 

Mary. 

O God ! I have been too slack, too slack ; 

There are Hot Gospellers even among our guards — 

Nobles we dared not touch. We have but burnt 

The heretic priest, workmen, and women and childrea 

Wet, famine, ague, fever, storm, wreck, wrath, — 

We have so play'd the coward ; but by God's grace. 

We'll follow Philip's leading, and set up 

The Holy Office here — garner the wheat. 

And burn the tares with unquenchable fire ! 

Burn ! — 

Fie, what a savor ! tell the cooks to close 



278 ' Qitee7i Mary, [act v. 

The doors of all the offices below. 

Latimer ! 

Sir, we are private with our women here — 

Ever a rough, blunt, and uncourtly fellow — 

Thou light a torch that never will go out ! 

'Tis out — mine flames. Women, the Holy Father 

Has ta'en the legateship from our cousin Pole — 

Was that well done ? and poor Pole pines of it, 

As I do, to the death. I am but a woman, 

I have no power. — Ah, weak and meek old man, 

Sevenfold dishonored even in the sight 

Of thine own sectaries — No, no. No pardon ! — 

Why that was false : there is the right hand still 

Beckons me hence. 

Sir, you were burnt for heresy, not for treason, 

Remember that ! 'twas I and Bonner did it. 

And Pole ; we are three to one — Have you found 

mercy there, 
Grant it me here : and see he smiles and goes, 
Gentle as in life. 

Alice. 
Madam, who goes ? King Philip ? 

Mary. 
No, Philip comes and goes, but never goes. 



SCENE v.] Qneen Mary: 279 

Women, when I am dead, 

Open my heart, and there you will find written 

Two names, Philip and Calais ; open his, — 

So that he have one, — 

You wdll find Philip only, policy, policy, — 

Ay, worse than that — not one hour true to me ! 

Foul maggots crawling in a fester'd vice ! 

Adulterous to the very heart of Hell. 

Hast thou a knife ? 

Alice. 
Ay, Madam, but o' God's mercy — 

Mary. 

Fool, think'st thou I would peril mine own soul 
By slaughter of the body ? I could not, girl, 
Not this way — callous with a constant stripe, 
Unwoundable. Thy knife ! 

Alice. 

Take heed, take heed 1 
The blade is keen as death. 

Mary. 

This Philip shall not 
Stare in upon me in my haggardness ; 



28o Queen Mary. [act v. 

Old, miserable, diseased, 

Incapable of children. Come thou down. 

\Cuts out the picture and throws it down 
Lie there. ( Wails.) O God, I have killed my Philip. 

Alice. 

No, 
Madam, you have but cut the canvas out, 
We can replace it. 

Mary. 

All is well then ; rest — 
I will to rest ; he said, I must have rest. 

[Cries of " Elizabeth " in the street. 
Aery! What's that? Elizabeth? revolt? 
A new Northumberland, another Wyatt ? 
I'll fight it on the threshold of the grave. 

Lady Clarence. 
Madam, your royal sister comes to see you. 

Mary. 

I will not see her. 

Who knows if Boleyn's daughter be my sister ? 

I will see none except the priest. Your arm. 

\To Lady Clarence. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 281 

O Saint of Aragon, with that sweet worn smile 
Among thy patient wrinkles — Help me hence. [Exeunt. 

The Priest passes. Enter Elizabeth and Sir 
William Cecil. 

Elizabeth. 

Good counsel yours — 

No one in waiting ? still, 
As if the chamberlain were Death himself ! 
The room she sleeps in — is not this the way ? 
No, that way there are voices. Am I too late ? 
Cecil . . . God guide me lest I lose the way. 

\Exit Elizabeth. 

Cecil. 

Many points weathered, many perilous ones. 

At last a harbor opens ; but therein 

Sunk rocks — they need fine steering — much it is 

To be nor mad, nor bigot — have a mind — 

Not let Priests' talk, or dream of worlds to be, 

Miscolor things about her — sudden touches 

For him, or him — sunk rocks ; no passionate faith — 

But — if let be — balance and compromise ; 

Brave, wary, sane to the heart of her — a Tudor 

Schooled by the shadow of death — a Boleyn, too. 

Glancing across the Tudor — not so well. 



282 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Eiiter Alice. 
How is the good Queen now ? 

Alice. 

Away from Philip. 
Back in her childhood — prattling to her mother 
Of her betrothal to the Emperor Charles, 
And childlike-jealous of him again — and once 
She thank'd her father sweetly for his book 
Against that godless German. Ah, those days 
Were happy. It was never merry world 
In England, since the Bible came among us. 

Cecil. 
And who says that ? 

Alice. 
It is a saying among the Catholics. 

Cecil. 
It never will be merry world in England, 
Till all men have their Bible, rich and poor. 

Alice. 
The Queen is dying, or you dare not say it. 



SCENE v.] Queen Mary. 283 

Enter Elizabeth. 

Elizabeth. 
The Queen is dead. 

Cecil. 
Then here she stands ! my homage. 

Elizabeth. 
She knew me, and acknowledged me her heir, 
Pray'd me to pay her debts, and keep the Faith ; 
Then claspt the cross, and pass'd away in peace, 
I left her lying still and beautiful, 
More beautiful than in life. Why would you vex your- 
self. 
Poor sister ? Sir, I swear I have no heart 
To be your Queen. To reign is restless fence, 
Tierce, quart, and trickery. Peace is with the dead. 
Her life was winter, for her spring was nipt : 
And she loved much : pray God she be forgiven. 

Cecil. 

Peace with the dead, who never were at peace ! 
Yet she loved one so much — I needs must say — 
That never English monarch dying left 
England so little. 



284 Queen Mary. [act v. 

Elizabeth. 

But with Cecil's aid 
And others, if our person be secured 
From traitor stabs — we will make England great. 

Enter Paget, and other Lords of the Council, Sir 
Ralph Bagenhall, 6^^. 

Lords. 
God save Elizabeth, the Queen of England ! 

Bagenhall. 
God save the Crown : the Papacy is no more. 

Paget {aside). 
Are we so sure of that ? 

Acclamation. 

God save the Queen ! 



THE END. 



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